Darker & Wilder
by Crystal Sampson
Summary: Jess is worried when Sam leaves in a hurry one Friday afternoon. The only thing he can offer her before he goes is a phone number and promise to be back by Sunday night. When he doesn't show up on time, Jess makes the call.
1. Chapter 1

Jess smoothed out the edge of the note, crinkled from where she had been clutching it these last fifteen minutes. Sam gave it to her before he slung his bag over his shoulder and strode out the door, his expression grim.

She tried to convince him not to go. He'd had that faraway look he got sometimes when he talked about his childhood as he was telling her he had to take off for a few days. He wouldn't tell her what he was doing or where he was going, just that he wouldn't be gone long.

"What's this about? Are you in some kind of trouble," Jess asked. She couldn't help the shiver of fear at the thought of what could make Sam – her always smiling, quick to laugh Sam – look like he was about to go into battle.

"Here," he said, scribbling down a number on a bright yellow sticky note as if it was all the answer she needed. "If I'm not back in two days, call this number. Tell him...just tell him I had an emergency situation, and I need his help. He'll know what to do. But seriously, only if I'm not back by Sunday night."

"Sam, wait! You're not making sense. What's going on?"

"There's just something I have to take care of. It's fine. I promise."

"Whose number is this?"

"My brother's."

He kissed her on the top of her head, then marched out the door before she could stop him. That was Friday afternoon. By Saturday evening she'd been worried. By Sunday afternoon she was going crazy.

She chewed her nails as she glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was only just 4 o'clock. The afternoon sunlight was pouring in the window over the sink, catching in the crystal bird she had hung from the curtain rod and casting rainbows on the floor. Sam could just be caught in traffic. It could be nothing. Except, she'd seen the determined set to his shoulders as the door fell shut behind him.

Fifteen minutes of watching the seconds tick by drug past before she gave in and punched the number into her phone.

She thought it was going to go to voicemail. On the fifth ring, the call connected. She could make out tinny music and chatter over the line. There was a long, fraught pause before a man's voice said, "Sam."

It was tightly neutral. If anything, it almost sounded cold, but it jogged Jess into action. "Not exactly."

"Who is this?" What had been carefully neutral before turned threatening. "How did you get this number?"

"My name is Jess, Sam's girlfriend. He gave me your number before he left on Friday. He said...he said if he wasn't back on Sunday to call you. That you'd know what to do. He wouldn't tell me where he was going or what was going on. Just to tell you he had an emergency situation."

"Did he go by himself?"

"Yes, as far as I know."

"And you don't know where he was headed?"

"No," Jess said, feeling small and scared.

There was a growl from the other end of the line. "Dammit, Sammy. Okay. I'm on my way. You still at that little apartment? The one with the funny tree in front?

"Yes."

"I'll be there in three hours." Without another word, he hung up. Jess was left staring at the phone in her hands wondering what had just happened. As far as she knew, Sam hadn't spoken to any of his family since he'd arrived on campus. Yet his brother had been willing to drop everything and head over with no more explanation than that Sam was possibly in trouble.

Jess honestly didn't know what to expect from the mysterious Dean. She'd heard the name a handful of times, usually said with such reverence that she felt like she was intruding by asking about him. All she knew was that Dean had basically raised Sam and that he liked pie, beer, and that car of his. She never intended to meet him like this.

The first hour of her wait, she paced, debating whether to call the cops. Was Sam technically missing? He had said Sunday evening. It could be as simple as that his car broke down and he was stuck somewhere. He might even now be walking to get service on his phone. Deep in her gut she knew that wasn't true, but she also knew Sam wouldn't want her to call the police either. His eyes went tight and he slouched almost reproachfully when he saw an officer. He'd told her once that cops had always meant trouble for his family. She hadn't pried. By that point she knew Sam had grown up rough simply from what he hadn't said. She held off. If his brother couldn't give her some answers, then she'd report him missing.

By the second hour, she had worried herself into an anxious ball of energy. It got to where she was itching with the extra nerves. With a scowl, she chided herself for worrying over things she couldn't fix and began viciously cleaning the apartment. No way was she going to meet her boyfriend's family for the first time while he judged her for her dirty socks laying on the living room floor. She scrubbed and straightened and vacuumed until the whole place felt new.

By the third hour, all her cleaning had managed to do was make her physically tired. She was still too wired to actually relax. Instead, she started cooking. It was past her usual dinner time, and presumably she'd pulled Dean away from his own meal. The least she could do was feed him if it got her closer to solving the mystery of what Sam had been up to. She even put together an apple pie, and set it in the oven.

Not five minutes after she set the pie aside to cool, a knock sounded at her door. It was thunderous in the quiet of the apartment. She jumped, dropping the spoon she had being stirring the potatoes with to clatter on the linoleum floor.

She scooped the spoon up, dumping it in the sink and then scrambled to the door. She pulled it open to find a man standing in her doorway. He was tall, although at least a head shorter than Sam, and dark. He looked worn around the edges, although, even now his eyes held a bit of mischief in them. Under any other circumstances, she'd find him at least mildly attractive.

Now she just stared at him.

"Uh, Jess right?"

She blinked, realizing she'd been eyeing him for a full minute without saying anything. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, come in." She stepped aside and allowed him to come into the apartment. He seemed to see right into her and she doubted he ever missed much about people.

His face lightened in surprise as he crossed the threshold. "Wow, something smells good."

She turned and went into the kitchen. "Sam said you liked pie. I know I probably pulled you away from dinner. Least I could do."

"Thanks sweetheart, but at the moment what I really need is to find Sam."

She shrugged. "I'm not sure how much help I can be. He didn't tell me anything."

Dean frowned as he glanced around the spotless apartment. "He do this often?"

"No," she said with a tight shake of her head. "I mean he sometimes takes off for a day or so, but never like this. He seemed grim."

Dean nodded and dropped his bag to the floor. "He still got that old laptop?"

She shuffled into the bedroom and grabbed the laptop in question off their desk. When she came back, he had pulled a map out of his bag and spread it onto the kitchen table.

"Here," she said, drawing his eyes back onto her. "I don't know his password though."

Dean gave her an odd look. He took the laptop and flipped it open. "Isn't that one of those couple things? Like knowing each other's coffee order or something?"

"Maybe," she said as she came to watch over his shoulder. "But privacy's a big thing for Sam and I respect that. If it's important, he'll share, and if I ask, he lets me look."

Dean scowled. "Yeah. He's real big on privacy." He clicked a handful of keys. Jess couldn't help the pang of jealousy as the lock screen gave way to the desktop.

Dean rooted around for a few minutes, clicking through the browsing history and poking at the obvious documents. "Come on, kid. Where'd you hide it," he muttered to himself. Then a smile grew on his face. "Gotcha!"

Dean clicked on an icon that looked suspiciously like a pentagram, barely visible against the background, and was prompted for a second password. This one gave him pause. He muttered as he typed a couple of ideas into the field. On the third try he snorted as a folder popped open to reveal a set of files she'd never seen.

One was a word document with a handful of links that mostly went to a local paper. One was a pdf marked journal. One was a document simply labelled "Dean." There was a secondary folder marked contacts as well. Dean poked around in it, but left off when it didn't hold any answers, just a list of nonsense names and some phone numbers.

Dean clicked through the file with his name on it. Jess scanned over his shoulder, but it became apparent quickly that it had been a draft of a letter that Sam had been working on, and not something to do with his disappearance, so she didn't try to read it. Next to her, Dean grunted and closed it quickly. Instead, he went back to the document with the site links and followed them through.

Jess skimmed them, but they seemed like a random collection. They were all from different time periods, mostly just old missing persons cases. There were some old property records and something that looked suspiciously like a recipe in Latin. The most recent article was from a few days prior, a group of kids kidnapped from a field trip. Nothing about the information seemed to be related.

At least Jess didn't think so. Dean apparently saw something she didn't. "Dammit, Sammy. What were you thinking?"

"What is it?"

"Just my dumbass little brother thinking he's invincible." If anything, Dean sounded exasperated. It was the same tone her cousin used to use on her when she begged him to take her out on his motorcycle.

"I don't get it," Jess said.

"Look, I don't know what Sam's told you or not told you about his past or our family business. My guess is not much. I won't spill his secrets, but it's dangerous – can be very dangerous – and Sam went into it up to his eyes in research, which he's good at I'll grant, but with no back up on a case that should have at least two if not three people."

"Family business? Case?" Jess asked, bewildered. "What like FBI or something?"

"Or something," Dean said with a scowl, scanning back through the property records. "You said he left Friday night?"

"Yeah."

"And he hasn't called or checked in since then?"

"No," Jess said, starting to get angry. She wanted answers, not more mysteries. "No, just what I told you over the phone. Now tell me what's going on."

"I just did. Your boyfriend's gone and gotten himself in trouble. I'm going to have me a bite of whatever smells so good after all, and then I'm going to go rescue that punk of a little brother."

"No." Jess smacked her hand on the table. "I want to know exactly what he's gotten himself mixed up in. What is going on!"

Dean looked at her over his shoulder, brow arched. "Can't you piece it together?"

"What? All the missing persons reports? What's so special about them?"

"Sam went to help," Dean said with a shrug. "Maybe save the last few survivors."

"Why didn't he just call the police if he had information about it?"

"Because the police can't handle the sorts of things Sam and I were trained to."

"It's a missing person," She snapped. "What exactly does Sam know that the police don't? Don't get me wrong, a bus full of kids going missing is sad, but it's not Sam's responsibility."

Dean scowled. "You know. That's what I thought Sam had decided when he moved out here. My best guess is because it's kids. He always had a soft spot for them. When I drag his ass back I'll be sure to ask him what was going through his head. Until then, what's a guy got to do to get some grub around here?"

Jess huffed, but didn't argue. They were talking in circles at this point. She was tired and scared, and honestly a little hungry herself. She took a deep breath, trying not to murder Sam's brother. "Fine. Let's eat." She moved off to the stove and started putting together a couple of plates. As she did, she heard him stand and move towards the door. It clicked open and he stepped out, closing it behind him. She hesitated for a second then crept to the door and put her ear against the wood.

"Don't give me that, Bobby," Dean was muttering low enough she had to strain to hear him. "I know you've been talking to him. I saw his last email... Yeah, well. Dad ain't here." There was a scuff as he leaned up against the door, then a sigh. "This is Sam. Of course he went when no one else could and he went in solo.

There was a long pause before Dean finally said, "No, it looks like some kind of big mojo witch. He left some good intel. Gonna follow up tonight, but it's still a little early for me to head over... Yeah, there were notes about the ritual she's using. The kids should be fine. Moon's the wrong phase. Earliest she could do anything would be tomorrow night unless she's going all Hansel and Gretel."

Somehow, even listening in she felt like she was out of the loop. Witches? Hansel & Gretel? Were they talking in some kind of code? Dean's sharp tone cut through her thoughts. "I don't know! But if it's where Sam thought, the sight lines are a fucking nightmare. I won't get ten feet in without it being dark... Yeah, I will. Thanks, Bobby."

As he signed off, Jess scampered away from the door and back to the stove. She had just enough time to be laying out their plates on the table as he came back in. When she looked him over, he just shrugged. "Had to make a call."

They sat and ate. Dean seemed to appreciate her cooking if nothing else. He made frankly disturbing noises when he bit into the pie. "If you weren't Sam's girl," he said, eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I'd marry you. Just for this."

"For pie?"

He nodded, grinning at her.

"Look, I'm glad you like the pie," she said. "But I'd really like to understand what's going on. What are you doing?"

"I'm rescuing Sam," He said as he scraped the last bits of apple filling from the plate with his fork.

"From what?" She said, losing her patience entirely. "Serial kidnapper? Sociopath with a love for giant geeks? A marauding flock of geese? What exactly did Sam get into?"

Dean shook his head. He set the plate aside and frowned. "Like I said, it's dangerous. Serial kidnapper is the closest you're going to get and I can tell you don't believe that, so I'm just going to say trust me when I tell you, Sam's kept his mouth shut to protect you. I may still be pissed at him, but I wouldn't undermine that."

"I don't need protecting. I can take care of myself."

"Sure you can, sweetheart," he said. He stood and pulled his keys from his pocket. "I got no doubt, but this is an entirely different ballgame from drunk frat boys and pervs in parking lots. So you just hang tight and let me do my job. You can yell at Sasquatch when he comes home."

"Where are you going?"

"Orinda. Or just outside it."

"When?"

"I'm heading out in about an hour," he said, moving towards the door. "Gotta time it so I'm there after dark. Plus I needed some food and a few supplies."

"What supplies?"

Dean paused at the door. He turned back to give her an appraising look. "You really want to know?"

"I asked didn't I?"

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going to need sage, mint, rosemary, some amethyst, and a white beeswax candle. I got most of it in the car, except the candle. Hoping geek boy keeps one, seeing how he warded the house."

"So what," Jess said. She could feel a headache coming on. First it sounds like some CIA, black-ops style mess and now he's going to burn sage at the problem? "You're pagan witches or something?"

Dean snorted. "Hardly. So how about it, got a candle or two?"

Jess frowned. "White beeswax? I don't think so. Just the scented one in the bathroom."

"Mind if I take a look? Wherever Sam keeps his duffle."

"He took it with him."

"Figured. But where does he store it?"

Jess shrugged and gestured down the hallway. "On the shelf over the closet in the guest room."

Dean nodded and rose. He didn't even ask, just took off into the second bedroom. Jess followed him. He slipped back out of the room past her to grab one of the kitchen chairs and drag it back. He climbed to stand on the chair and peek at the top of the shelf. Jess was surprised when he crowed in triumph and pulled down a metal box she'd never seen before with a little lock on it.

He pressed the release, but rolled his eyes when the box was locked. He glanced over at Jess and waved an impatient hand at her. "I need a hair pin. Or a paper clip, whichever."

Jess pulled out a pin from her bun and handed it to him without a word. It was a matter of seconds before he had cracked the lid and was rooting through the contents. He held up the candle and waggled it at her with a grin. He pulled the whole kit down and took it back to the table along with the chair.

Jess joined him back at the table as he started digging for what he needed. She plucked through the topmost contents. There were small bags of herbs, a few vials with liquids in them, a knife she'd bet her two back teeth was silver, a couple of candles along with some matches, a spool of white thread and a small bundle of cloth that looked suspiciously like the old t-shirt he'd told her had shrunk in the wash.

Dean didn't waste any time, he rummaged through the contents, pulling out a small assortment of things. "What is all of this," Jess asked finally.

Dean didn't look up from his work. "Tools of the trade. Mostly for protection."

"I thought you said you weren't witches."

Dean snorted. "Trust me, we aren't. But if you'd seen some of the things we have, you'd understand. How did you think he protected the apartment?"

"As far as I know, he didn't."

"Then you're blind," Dean said, waving a hand absently at the living room. "There's wardings everywhere in here. A few even I don't know."

"What?" Jess gasped. She had known he was superstitious, but "warding" their home? That seemed a little far even for Sam.

Dean glanced back up at her and shrugged. "Figured you knew. They've obviously been there for a while and no one has tried to clean them off."

"Where?"

"Nuh-uh. You leave them be. If not for your own safety, then because it would upset Sam if they were gone."

Dean had collected the ingredients into a makeshift sachet and stitched a symbol into the fabric. He gathered the ends and tied them off, then lit the candle. He said a short chant then allowed the wax to drop on the thread holding the bag closed.

He blew the candle out. Jess watched the smoke drift in lazy curls towards the ceiling. After a moment, he replaced the candle and the extra herbs into the kit. He left the box on the table, but it was as neat and organized as it was when he found it.

"Alright," he said, standing and shrugging on his jacket. "This is where I head out. Stay here. Keep the door locked. Until we're back, don't let anyone in just to be safe."

Jess started. He was leaving to go get Sam. He was leaving her to sit and worry. More to the point he was going into something he claimed was dangerous armed with a bag of herbs and a cocky attitude. She folded her arms over her chest, feeling a bit more herself for the first time that night. "I'm coming with you."

Dean turned and gave her a mocking glance over. "Not happening."

"Try and stop me."

"Look, sweetheart. Sam cares about you. I am not putting you in danger if I don't have to. Plus, no offense but I don't have time to look after a civie today. I gotta move and move fast. You'll only slow me down. Stay here, stay safe, and in a few hours you can feed Sammy up with that pie and a good guilt trip. He deserves it."

"No," She said. This was one fight she wasn't willing to lose. "You said it yourself. Sam's in trouble. What if he's hurt? You might need the extra hands. I'm coming. Leave me in the car if you have to, but I am going. I will follow you if I have to."

Dean must have seen something in her stance. "For fuck's sake!" He said, throwing his arms in the arm. "Fine! I don't have time to argue with you. But you stay in the car. You do not, under any circumstances come in with me. And you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. I mean it. You make one move to come in with me and I'll lock you in the trunk. I'm not shitting you about this being dangerous."

Jess nodded grimly. "Fine."

"Then go put some clothes on," he snapped. "Something you can run in if you have to. And be quick about it."

She glanced down at the loose sundress she'd been wearing. She'd thrown it on this morning not intending to leave the house and more worried about Sam than about how she looked. She jogged into her room and threw on the first clothes she found that looked like they might be movement friendly. In less than five minutes, she was wearing loose jeans and t-shirt over her crappy sneakers.

Dean looked her over, appraising her choices then shrugged. "Let's go. We've got a twenty minute drive to get there."

Dean led the way down the breezeway stairs and out to his car. Jess couldn't help but eye it appreciatively. The car was a monster, but she was gorgeous – dark and sleek, obviously well cared for.

Dean slid into the driver's seat and started the car. Jess hesitated, but one look back at her dark apartment window convinced her. She was going to be there when they found Sam, and she was never going to let him out of her sight again. As they pulled away, Jess couldn't help but worry what Sam was doing at that moment.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean tore through the night. Jess hadn't realized that he'd meant it was only a twenty minute drive for him. She suspected it would have been closer to forty minutes for any sane person, but she didn't feel afraid. Dean seemed to be in perfect control even if he did drive like a man on the run. She couldn't complain; the faster he drove, the closer they got to Sam.

She had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she jumped when Dean cut the headlights and made a sharp turn onto a small, narrow drive. The car slowed to a crawl and bumped over deep ruts in the dirt. Jess has to hold on to the door to keep from bouncing all over the bench seat. The car rolled to a stop behind a set of tall bushes. Ahead, the house loomed up on top of a steep hill. There were a few twisted trees near the front that might have once shaded the porch, but otherwise the building sat alone, looking out across the nearby woods.

It was a lonely, desolate place. Jess could imagine one of her aunt's old supernatural romance novels happening in a place like this. It didn't seem the kind of place anyone would try to live in. Although, Jess supposed that might be point. She eyed the steep climb up the overgrown lawn to get to the house. "Why here," she asked.

Next to her, Dean was loading bullets into a pistol while keeping an eye on the house. He nodded towards the imposing structure. "The bitch probably has traps and alarms all over the place. If I get any closer, we risk not being able to drive out of here."

Jess wasn't sure exactly what kind of alarms someone might have installed this far out, but Dean seemed to know what he was talking about. Satisfied with his weapon, he turned in his seat and stared her down in the meager moonlight. "This is the part where you stay put."

She nodded. She was perfectly happy not storming into the haunted house, thank you very much.

Dean didn't seem convinced. "I mean it," he said with a bite. "Stay in the car. You won't help me or Sam by coming in after us. You'll just get yourself hurt. So stay."

She stared up at the house. It was dark and seemed to sag inward in some indefinable way. She shuddered at how cold it looked. "Okay."

He stared at her for another minute then nodded. He leaned forward and reached across her knees to pull a second gun from the glove compartment. "Take this. Pull back on the hammer," he said, demonstrating as he explained. "Point and squeeze the trigger. Shoot anything that approaches the car, unless it's me or Sam. If anything weird happens out here, honk the horn three times. If I'm not back in an hour, take the car and go. And for the love of all that's good in the world don't get out of the car."

She nodded and took the gun gingerly, holding it in her lap. "Bring Sam back."

"I'm planning on it."

He climbed out of the car, stretching on the balls of his feet as he scowled up at the house. He spared one last look at her before he set off around the side of the hill. Jess watched him go. Thus began the hardest wait of her life.

Dean had left the keys in the ignition. Jess spent five minutes playing with the radio, trying to get anything to come in just to have some background noise. She didn't want to turn a light on just in case anyone was looking. What Dean had said about traps and serial kidnappers had spooked her. Even the chatter from the local weatherman seemed loud in the stillness of the night, so she flipped the radio off.

She felt antsy and on edge. Every rustle in the bushes was someone sneaking up on her. Every swaying branch was a killer about to strike. Jess wasn't the kind of girl to sit and wait. She never had been. She met things head on. She didn't like the not knowing of just sitting there, and yet she'd spent the last three days doing nothing but waiting.

When she heard shots in the house, she froze. She knew Dean had a gun. She didn't know who had fired the shots. Jess was the daughter of a cop and she knew without a doubt that any gunshot was serious. She decided she would count to 100. If Dean did reappear, promise or no she was going after him.

She was easing up towards seventy, eyes never leaving the haunted house, when Dean came scrambling down the narrow path towards the car, Sam's long lanky arm slung over his shoulder. Sam was barely holding his head up, leaving Dean to half drag his brother along. Jess burst from the car and sprinted to them. When she got closer, she realized there was blood matted in Sam's hair and soaking through his side. She tenderly lifted his free arm and took some of his weight. Together the three of them staggered to the car.

When they reached the door Jess had left flung open, Dean took both of Sam's arms in a practiced motion and lowered him into the passenger seat. Sam dropped with a grunt and stared up at them through squinted eyes.

"Deeeean," he said, sounding like a cross between a petulant five year old and someone's long suffering father. "Jess is here. Why is Jess here?"

Dean grunted and knelt down to be more on eye level with Sam. "Because she's every bit as stubborn as you, you pain in the ass."

Jess opened her mouth to reprimand him. Sam was hut. Surely he could play nice for one night, but before she could say anything Sam grinned at his brother. "Yeah, she is. I love her, man. That's why she wasn't supposed to come."

Dean shrugged. "Don't look at me," he said as he maneuvered Sam's head so he could get a look at the cut along his hairline in the dim interior light. "I told her to stay home. She listens about as well as you do to. At least she stayed in the car, unlike someone I could name."

Sam let out a breathy chuckle. Jess felt a little of the tension ease from her shoulders at the sound. "What was I supposed to do? Half the time I was the one who kept you from getting your butt handed to you." Jess let the car take her weight as she listened to the two brothers bicker.

"Stay in the damn car," Dean snapped, although his voice lacked any reprimand.

"And let you have all the fun? Oh man, remember that time I fell out of that tree onto that wolf? I'm not sure who was more surprised."

Dean snorted, angling Sam's head down so he could get a better look at where the blood was coming from. "So you thought being dog chow was funny, did you?"

Sam jerked his head up out of Dean's gentle grip. His eyes were wide and panicked. Jess jerked away from the car, her relief forgotten. She stepped forward, ready to push Dean out of the way if she had to.

"Dean! Jess can't be here."

Dean frowned. "Okay, clearly someone has a bigger concussion than I thought. We just had that conversation."

"No. I mean, she's kind and sweet and normal. She can't be here. We can't let her..."

"What?" Jess demanded, sick of all the secrets. "What exactly do you think I can't handle?"

Sam turned those big soulful eyes on her, which was all kinds of not fair. He looked so earnest. Even her simmering anger couldn't completely hold up under that look. "Not can't handle," he said. "Shouldn't have to."

"Fuck you, Winchester," Jess spat. She was damn well right in the middle of whatever deep, dark secret Sam was keeping and she was quickly losing patience. "I'm perfectly capable of handling myself. So tell me what is going on."

Sam glanced down at his lap, the picture of remorse. "I thought I could handle it," he said in a small voice. "But it wasn't what I thought. Dean, the kids!" His sudden shout made both Jess and Dean flinch.

Dean patted his shoulder. "You got them out. Remember? That's why witch bitch was mad at you."

Sam scrunched his face up. "I don't remember."

"Yeah, head injuries are a bitch aren't they?"

Sam groaned. "I was really hoping I was done with those."

Dean chuckled. "No such luck, Sammy. Sorry kiddo."

Jess smirked and braced for the vitriol that usually came with that nickname. Sam had never once let anyone call him that. Instead of scowling and snapping, he leaned forward so his head was resting on Dean's shoulder. "M'not a kid."

Dean rubbed circles into his back. "Whatever you say, Sasquatch." Dean must have hit something tender because Sam jerked away with a hiss.

"Sam?"

Dean's tone had gone hard and worried. Jess watched forgotten on the sidelines as Dean stripped the shirt off her boyfriend without a moment's hesitation and tossed it into the back seat. "Shit. I thought you said you weren't that hurt."

"M'not. S'not that bad."

"Sam," Dean said. Even Jess could hear the note of panic in his voice. "This is the definition of bad."

Sam didn't seem to care. He just shrugged and said, "Bleeding stopped a while ago."

"Yeah, before you started doing things like punching people and falling down stairs. Now it's bleeding again. And it looks infected."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Jess couldn't see whatever injury was taking up the majority of Dean's focus, although she could tell from the tight set of his shoulders that it was the most likely cause of the blood that had soaked the side of Sam's t-shirt. She was startled back into motion when Dean snapped at her and tossed her his keys.

"In the trunk," he said, eyes never leaving Sam. "The green square bag. Grab it and a flashlight. Congratulations. You've just been promoted to field nurse."

Jess fumbled the keys, but scrambled around to get into the trunk. It was surprisingly full considering she had called him out of the blue. A couple of duffle bags and some small boxes sat haphazardly piled together. In amongst them, she spotted the bag he had described, complete with a red cross on the side. She grabbed the handle and yanked it free from the pile. In the far corner of the trunk, she spotted a heavy duty flashlight that had rolled free of a bag at some point and snatched it up as well.

When she came back around to the passenger side of the car, Dean nodded at her. "I hope you're not squeamish."

"No," she said with a shake of her head.

"Good. Get over here and hold the light. I've got to get this dressed before we leave. Just remember it looks worse because of the dried blood. He'll be fine." Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "That doesn't mean you're not getting my special Winchester stitches when we get home though. I just got to stop the bleeding some."

Sam just grunted.

Jess switched on the light and moved to Sam's other side. She gasped when she saw the damage. His entire side was nearly black with bruises, and he had two long cuts, one down his shoulder blade and a much deeper one along his side. There were a few other cuts and bumps, but the wound in his side was still weeping blood. "Shouldn't we get him to the hospital?"

Sam tensed under Dean's hands. Dean smacked his shoulder. "Relax dude. And no. No hospital necessary. We'll go back to yours, clean this out properly, stitch it up, and do concussion checks tonight. It'll suck, but we don't need a hospital."

She didn't comment, afraid she'd make the situation worse. Instead, she handed Dean the kit, which he opened and set on Sam's lap. He pulled a bottle of water out of the floor of the car and set to washing out the wound as best he could.

Dean was gentle. For all his gruff manner and rough exterior, he was downright tender with Sam. He cleaned the wound with what he had and bandaged it up so Sam wouldn't bleed everywhere, then eased him back into the seat. Sam was almost asleep by that point, but he managed to crack an eye long enough to say, "My duffle."

Dean swore under his breath. "Is it that important?"

Sam didn't say anything. Just nodded.

Dean stood. "Fine. I'll get your bag. Gotta go take care of the rest anyway. Stay here, Sam." He rounded on Jess. "You make sure he keeps his ass planted on that seat. If he moves, you can shoot him."

"Hey!" Sam glared from his spot, but he didn't move or snark back.

"It's not me that left their purse inside, Samantha."

"I was a little busy keeping you from getting torched."

"Yeah, yeah. What do you want? A formal letter of thanks?"

"Dean. Go," Sam said, sounding weary. "I'm not going to stay conscious much longer."

Dean stormed off muttering choice descriptions of where Sam could shove his bag. Jess eyed Sam, waiting for something to break the tension between them. Twenty minutes ago, all she could think about was getting him home. Now, she wasn't sure what to do. She was angry at him for putting her through all this, but mostly she was tired. She was ready to go home and collapse into her bed.

Sam finally rolled his head around to face her. "We got any of the good stuff in that kit, still?"

She startled a bit at being addressed. "What?"

"My head is killing me. There's usually something stronger than Tylenol rattling around down in the bottom of the med bag. Take a peak for me?"

"Are you sure you should take something if you've got a concussion?"

Sam shrugged. "Not the stupidest thing I've ever done. Besides, it might be stronger than Tylenol, but it's not going to be the real good stuff."

She dutifully rummaged around in the bag, but didn't find any pills period – Tylenol or otherwise. "Sorry, looks like the pharmacy is fresh out."

After a long moment, Sam finally said, "I know you're pissed at me, but thanks for calling Dean."

"Of course I called him," Jess snapped. "You left looking like someone had died, didn't call for two days straight, and didn't show up when you said you would. Why wouldn't I make that call?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just – if you know you can stop a bad thing from happening, but you don't do anything, doesn't that make you partially responsible?"

She huffed, her hands finding her hips. "I don't want your lectures on morality, Sam. I want to know what the hell you were thinking. What's gotten into you? And the secrets. The number of things your brother has implied in the last hour alone!"

"I can't tell you, exactly. I did try to stay safe. I called around, tried to find anyone else who could take this one. There wasn't anyone, not who would get here in time. There were twelve kids at risk. I couldn't sit by and let them die."

"Then you go to the police!"

"There wasn't anything the police could do, except get themselves hurt."

Jess threw her hands in the air. "What does that even mean!?" She turned and took a few steps away from the car. She needed a little space between them. She was sick of these two men talking around whatever they were hiding.

"Hey," Sam said. His voice was calm, gentle even. "Hey now. It's okay. I know I scared you, but I'm gonna be fine."

Jess realized then that she was so mad and scared and hurt that she was crying. She stared out at the dark woods around them. Finally she said, "You tell me that, but I have no idea how I'm even supposed to trust you at this point. What are you hiding from me," she asked, turning back to him.

Sam sighed, he let his head fall back against the car seat, wincing when he bumped the gash on his scalp. He glanced up towards the house after Dean. "The way we grew up," he said finally. "We were trained as kids to be, well, soldiers of a sort. We were raised into the family business. It's dark and scary and not something anyone should have to know about. I've seen things, Jess. Things I never want you to ever have to worry about. That kind of thing, once you know, you can never forget."

"Cut the crap. I knew going in you didn't grow up in some happy family. I knew some bad things happened in you past that you didn't want to talk about. But you're scaring me."

"Good," he said darkly, his eyes finally finding hers again. "You should be scared of me. Of the things I've seen and done."

And damn if that did just piss her off. Sam didn't get to go off like an idiot and fling himself into danger then wallow around in self-pity. She stalked the few steps between them and smacked him across his cheek. He looked up at her stunned, his hand coming to cover the spot where she'd struck him. It hadn't been terribly hard, but she'd regretted it nearly as soon as she'd done it.

"I'm not scared of you, dumbass," she said by way of explanation. "I'm terrified that you thought you had to handle something that was obviously dangerous on your own. Instead of talking it through, you charged head first into danger.

"I'm pissed at you, sure. But I'm not scared of you."

Sam's eyes fell closed. "You should be."

She frowned. She had never see this side of Sam before. Sure, he got moody and brooded with the best of them, but usually he was upbeat and lively. He could power the city with the energy in his smile. He was always so enthralled with everything. She'd never seen him low, and sad like this before.

"Sam," she said softly. "I know you think you're better off keeping this thing a big secret. But you're not. I'm supposed to help share the load. That's part of the deal. You help me with my crap and I help you with yours. It's part of being in a relationship. I don't care if your family was spies, in the mob, paramilitary, whatever. I care that it's eaten at you like this. You've got to let someone help share that burden."

He didn't turn to look at her. He didn't even open his eyes. He just let out a deep breath. "I love you, Jess."

Dean wandered up then. His eyes were tired, but he had an easy swagger. As he drew closer, Jess caught a whiff of smoke. With a grin, he asked, "He turn maudlin yet? Head injuries always do that to him. Ignore him. He'll be back to his horrendously chipper self when the concussion clears up."

"Why do you know that!" Jess rounded on Dean. "This whole thing is so messed up and you act like it's the most normal thing in the world. Shouldn't you be worried that your brother has a head injury and needs stitches? Most people would be freaking out. I'm freaking out, but you act like it's another day at the office. I was hoping you were going to be the sensible one!"

"Hey, Jess, calm down," he said, looking a little alarmed. "Sammy and I have been through worse. This? Is nothing. Pain pills and a week of light duty. He's fine as long as he keeps his butt on the couch and doesn't pull a stitch. The only thing that has me worried is that infection, and it looks like we caught it early. Keep it clean and covered, it'll clear up just fine."

"That's not my point!"

"I know," he said, shaking his head and moving around to the driver's side door. "What do you want me to say? I mean, there've been times he almost bled out on me. This is nothing. In fact, given that he went in solo, this is actually much better shape than I expected." With that, he sank into the driver's seat and started the car.

Jess scrambled into the back seat in time to hear Sam's mubble of, "Not helping."

Dean frowned at him. "Well it's true."

Sam shook his head. Dean apparently reading his expression, shrugged. "You know, I'm with the chick on his one. You owe her an explanation. Doesn't have to be the whole sordid history, but if you're going to be with this girl, she should know what she's getting into. Especially if you're going to pull stunts like these."

Sam's head snapped up. Just like that, Jess was forgotten again. From her seat she could see the anger smoldering in his eyes. "I thought I was done! I left all that. I got out."

"Yeah, looks like you're out."

"They were kids, Dean!"

"And? You're out. Retired. Why were you even looking into this?"

"Just because I don't want to be in the life doesn't mean I forgot everything overnight. I can't just let it happen when I can do something. I'd been passing on information as I found it."

"Yeah," Dean said, working up into his own angry rant. "But why were you even looking for this stuff. Normal doesn't come with a rear view mirror. Not in this line of work."

"I had to keep her safe!"

A ringing silence filled the car at Sam's outburst. Dean's eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath. Jess felt like she had missed something important, but she did dare interrupt them.

"Dude," Dean said softly. "She's not mom."

"No," Sam said. He made an effort to sound calmer and more collected. "And I know enough to make sure she never will be. I left hunting, but I am going to make damn sure we're protected. I can't save the world. But I can keep her safe."

"Sam," Dean's face has turned soft. "You can't do that to yourself. It'll eat you alive."

"I won't lose anyone else. I refuse."

Dean sighed. "We're going to do this, aren't we? We've been in the same state for less than five hours and you're going to pull the chick flick moment." He fell silent. His entire focus was on the road ahead of them. At last he said, "You didn't lose me. You couldn't. You pissed me off and you hurt me, but you didn't lose me."

Sam shrugged. "I made you choose. Same thing really."

"Sam, it's always been you. I don't know why I could never get that through your thick skull. All these years, and I always chose you."

"You let me leave." Sam's voice sounded so small at that moment. All Jess wanted to do was gather him up and hold him close, but she had a feeling that this was something the two of them had to work through.

"I thought it's what you wanted," Dean said, simply. "Who am I to say no to that? I didn't realize you going meant leaving me behind."

"You sided with dad."

"No, I stayed out of it," Dean corrected. "I was pissed. Still am. You sprang that on us and expected everything to be roses. Dad crossed a line, I admit. He was being just as bullheaded stupid as you were, but what was I supposed to say? You were leaving me behind and it didn't look like you gave a damn about it."

"I just wanted you to be proud of me," Sam sighed. "I knew Dad never could, but you basically raised me. I just wanted to prove that I was worth something."

Dean gave a little huff of disbelief. "You're my pain in the ass little brother, of course you're worth something. And you'd better believe I'm proud of you. I always knew you'd make something of yourself. But you did it without me. You didn't need or want my approval. Otherwise I'd have known about all this before that night."

"I didn't tell you, because I was afraid that you'd talk me out of it. You were the one person who could make me stay. The life was eating away at me. Soon there wouldn't have been anything left."

Dean's face turned dark then. "I knew you hated it. Do you really think so little of me that you believe I wouldn't have supported you if this was what you really wanted?"

"I..." Sam looked like a lost child at that. "Would you have?"

Dean was quiet for a long time. Jess was sure, whatever the argument was really about, they were circling around the heart of it now. She wasn't even sure if Dean was going to answer. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know, now. But you didn't give me the chance."

"I know," Sam said. Jess couldn't see his face from where she sat, but he had slumped forward in his seat, defeated. "M'sorry. I really am. I should have trusted you. I do trust you."

"Do you though? Because I kinda think you don't get it. Until that night I thought I knew everything about you. I thought we were close."

"I know. I messed up. But you get it right? You get why I had to get out?"

Dean ground his jaw. "Not really." He held up his hand when it looked like Sam was going to try to explain. "No, I'm not interested. You wanted out. You got out. And if that's really what you want then fine. Stay out. But you want go flinging yourself into danger like you did tonight, you're not out. Never really were. If you do it again without backup, I'll kill you myself."

"Yeah, sure." Sam fell silent. Jess knew him well enough to tell he was chewing on some internal debate. She could have counted down the seconds until he drew in a breath to speak. She wondered if Dean had been waiting for that too, mentally keeping a countdown till Sam worked up to what he wanted to say. "I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

The car jerked to the right. Jess had to grip the seat hard to keep from pitching sideways. "What?" Dean's entire focus was on Sam now.

Sam refused to meet his eye. "I gave Jess your number because I hoped you'd at least hear her out, but I was afraid you'd just ignore it, especially if it came from my number. I never called because I thought you didn't want to hear from me. I just couldn't put the final nail in that coffin. Maybe that makes me a coward, but I wanted to believe there was still some little hope that I hadn't lost everything."

Dean swore. "I told you. You need me, you call me. If I'm not in the thick of it I'll answer, or I'll call you back."

Sam huffed. "You said that when I was fourteen and going into high school. I thought that was before."

"No. It's always. You hear me? I don't care if it's just because you're too lame to talk to girls and you need some advice or you're old and stiff and can't hobble out to the TV."

"So, I could call you…sometimes? And you wouldn't be mad about it?"

Jess bit her lip. She had never heard Sam sound so vulnerable. This wasn't a strained relationship between brothers. This was Sam and his hero.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Are we done with being girls now? I think my hair feels longer already."

Sam punched him, then hissed when he pulled his side. Dean chuckled. "See you're already hitting like a girl. Knew this was going to be a bad idea. You've always been a little bitch."

Sam returned the chuckle. "Shut up, jerk. Don't make me laugh."

With that, all the tension evaporated from the car. Jess leaned back in her seat, thinking over all she knew about Sam and how much she had learned in the last fifteen minutes. She knew his dad kicked him out. Knew there was some big fight before he left for Stanford. She hadn't know he had sprung it on them like that.

She'd also always known Sam's mom had died when he was a baby, but it sounded like it was something far more sinister than the freak electrical fire she'd believed it to be before. Sam had said hunting. What exactly did they hunt? There'd been the comment about wolves earlier, but even that didn't exactly sound like the secret that he was so intent on keeping. Nor did it explain why he was off in a dilapidated house rescuing children from, to use Dean's phrase, a "witch bitch." Or why Sam had said he'd saved Dean from getting torched or when he might have punched someone or fallen down stairs.

Jess felt like she was trying to piece together the puzzle of Sam's life and was only just realizing that she was missing too many pieces to even try and understand the bigger picture. She couldn't help the betrayal she felt blossoming in her chest. She truly believed he'd never outright lied to her, but now she was questioning everything she'd ever learned about him, looking at it through the lens of the new information she had.

She pulled in tight and tried to be invisible for the last five minutes of their drive.


	3. Chapter 3

When they pulled up in front of the apartment, Jess climbed out silent and focused on not calling too much attention to herself. She took the bag that Dean thrust at her and dashed ahead, opening up the apartment and flipping on the lights. She cleared the remains of their dinner into the sink and pulled out a chair for easy access. By then, Dean had staggered to the door with Sam. She help guide them in and get Sam sitting. Dean set to work immediately once Sam was down. He put water on to boil, laying out the supplies he would need from the first aid bag, then nudged Sam into a decent potion to be able to see his injuries.

Jess stayed well back. The last thing she wanted was to be in the way. Dean obviously knew what he was doing. He moved through the motions with practiced ease and Sam was compliant, obviously trusting his brother's skills. Dean only addressed her once to ask for a bottle of rubbing alcohol. It took her a minute to unearth the dusty bottle that had sat unused under their bathroom sink for months, but she brought it out to him. He poured out a measure into a plate. He lit a match, running his needle through it like it was some Wild West show where they didn't have modern medicine, then dropped it into the alcohol. A long length of thread was already sitting out on the table.

In under five minutes, Dean had transformed their kitchenette into a field hospital. He took a moment to scrub his hands with the dish soap they left on the counter. When he was ready he turned to Sam with a grim nod. "Alright college boy, you got any good meds you want to take?"

Sam shook his head. In the hard, fluorescent light of the kitchen, he looked pale and gaunt. Jess could see the tight lines of pain around his mouth and eyes. She knew as well as Sam did that the only thing they kept in the cabinet was Tylenol. After a moment of hesitation, Sam gave her a brief sideways glance before adding, "There's a bottle of Jack in the guest closet, behind the chest."

Dean nodded and gave Jess a meaningful look. She went to fetch it, wondering when the guest closet had become the hiding place for all Sam's secrets. She found the whiskey lodged tight behind the chest. She had to lean the entire thing forward to pull it out. When she returned, Sam took the bottle, unscrewed the kid, and took a swig. He smiled at her and gave her a knowing look. "You don't have to stay. It's not the kind of thing you want to watch."

She frowned. There he went making decisions for her again. Instead of retreating to her room like Sam had probably hoped, she sank down into the chair across from them, arms crossed over her chest. She gave Sam a hard look, daring him to argue with her. She wasn't about to let him out of her sight until she knew he was at least okay enough to go to bed. She knew she was too exhausted to fight them tonight, but she wasn't going anywhere until she got some answers. Sam didn't seem surprised. He nodded at her, then turned back to Dean with a grimace.

Dean took a wash cloth he'd produced from somewhere, dipped it in the hot water, and started to clean the area. Jess was mesmerized. It looked painful and abrasive. Dean was doing his best to be gentle, allowing the warm water to soak into the dried blood before he wiped it away, but it still required some scrubbing. Horrible as it was she couldn't look away. Sam didn't cry out or flinch. He just studied the bottle in his hands, eyes going even tighter.

Sam did flinch when Dean dowsed the area with the rubbing alcohol, but his passive face barely twitched when Dean's steady hands began sewing. Jess could almost feel the sting of the needle each time Dean set another stitch.

She forced herself to watch it all. She watched as Sam bantered with Dean over the number of stitches. She watched as Dean set a neat row of small, tight sutures then covered it over with gauze. She watched as Sam drank liquor straight from the bottle – Sam, who barely touched the stuff when they went out with their friends. She watched as Sam tested his range of motion and got smacked in the back of the head for not being careful. She watched as Dean carefully cleaned the gash on Sam's head, being gentle as he parted the hair there then carefully applying a butterfly bandage over it.

In the end, Jess felt like she was the one who needed the whiskey far more than either of the brothers. As Dean was cleaning up the dirty rags and bloody water, she was starting to see the shape of the thing Sam didn't want to tell her. It had to be something terrible if the two men in front of her could handle the situation the way they had. There was no panic or crying out, just resignation and firm competence. Whatever had given them the practice at this sort of thing couldn't have been pleasant.

For the first time that night, Jess felt something aching for both Sam and Dean in her heart.

When Dean was done, Sam grabbed his arm and swung him around to face him, pulling him in between his legs against the edge of the chair. He lifted the edge of Dean's t-shirt with one hand and held his hip in the other. Jess turned away. She knew they were brothers and that Sam loved her, but it was such an intimate gesture she didn't feel right watching. After what she'd seen tonight she wouldn't be ruling anything out.

Sam's sharp breath had her turning back to him, eyes going wide at the sight of Dean's midsection. In the back of her mind she noted that he was ripped. In any other circumstances, she'd have been looking for very different reasons. Tonight, instead of admiring the tight muscles, she was gaping at the deep bruising that had cropped up along the top of his stomach. The area had already turned a mottled red and purple with a few scrapes that had obviously bled a little. His dark t-shirt must have hidden the blood.

Sam frowned up at Dean. "I know you slammed into the banister. Anything else?"

Dean grunted but shook his head.

"I'm serious," Sam snapped. "I'm too tired to do a full check. If you hide something and then die from internal bleeding or an infection or some other dumb shit that you totally could have fessed up to, I'm going to bring you back and kill you myself."

"I'm fine. Chill, Sam." Dean's tone was annoyed but Jess caught the fond look he gave Sam when he thought he wasn't looking.

Sam grunted, eyes going back to the bruising, but seemed to take him at his word. "Sorry, you know the drill. Anything stiff or hurting?"

"No. It wasn't that hard."

Sam began palpitating Dean's midsection with a practiced motion. Jess looked on unsure what he was doing. Sam must have noticed her confusion. "I'm checking for internal bleeding," he said. Dean scowled but didn't back away.

"You landed on the railing from a good six foot up," Sam added, turning his focus back to Dean. "Don't tell me it's nothing. You're lucky you didn't tip the other way and take a header over the stairs."

"Take more than that to get me down."

"So the groaning was all for show then."

"Didn't want you to feel bad for getting your ass handed to you."

Sam huffed, but collapsed back into the chair. "I don't feel anything, but you should check again in a few hours."

"Yes, Mom."

Sam didn't bother to reply. Jess could tell he was barely hanging onto consciousness at that point. Dean seemed to know, too. He chuckled. "Alright, time for good damsels to go to bed."

Sam groaned, but let Dean pull him up. "I'll crash in the guest bed tonight. No reason for Jess to not get a good night's sleep because you mother hen me all night."

"They're called concussion checks and I'd like to know my brother didn't slip into a coma or something in the middle of the night so suck it up."

Jess stood then, waring with herself. She almost told him to come to bed with her. One part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up in the bed against his steady warmth and just know that he was home safe. The bigger part, the one led by the growing pit in her stomach that said she didn't really know a thing about him, needed some time to think.

Maybe she would regret it in the morning, but she let him go. She needed some space to sort out exactly what she was feeling and the idea of sharing the same bed was claustrophobic with all the thoughts bouncing around in her head. She waited until he was settled and snoring into his pillow, then made her way into her own room leaving Dean to fend for himself. She curled into her blankets. Her thoughts kept spiraling away from her, replaying everything Sam had ever said, even in passing, about himself. Her mind refused to let go of the thought that there was so much to Sam that she didn't know.

She woke the next morning to the smell of coffee wafting through the apartment. She had dozed off around six or seven that morning and still felt gritty and unrested. The one thing she'd finally decided last night was that it wouldn't help to hide from Sam or the problem. So, instead of curling back up and trying to drift off to sleep again, she found her robe and shuffled her way into the kitchen, unsure what would be waiting for her.

Sam was draped over the kitchen table, head resting on his outstretched arm. He looked like a zombie. His hair was flat and lank, his face was still pale, and he had dark circles underlining his eyes. Jess could relate. She sank into the chair next to him, watching as his brother practically danced through the kitchen. She glared through narrow eyes when he turned to her with a huge grin and winked. "Morning! I hope you don't mind me making myself at home. I was in the mood for some bacon."

He was entirely too happy for Jess's liking before she'd even had her coffee. She was just trying to come up with a response that didn't sound like a growl when Sam shifted so that he was looking up at her from his bed on the table. "Sorry about him," he grumbled. "He's always like this in the morning. It's a wonder Dad or I didn't murder him."

"You wouldn't," Dean said with a grin. "Then who'd make the coffee."

With a flourish, he produced a steaming mug and set it down in front of Jess. She wrapped her hands around it, enjoying the warmth. She stared down into the dark liquid trying to decide if she cared enough to get up and actually fix it the way she liked it. She didn't usually take it black, but this morning she was willing to forgo the cream in favor of caffeine. She took a sip off the top and the warmth loosened the annoyance a little. "I'll withhold judgement as long as the coffee keeps coming," she said.

Dean gave her a huge grin, then plates of bacon and eggs were being dropped on the table and the smell tempted even her. She glanced up when Dean sat across from her and realized he had served himself a large slice of pie.

"No wonder you're so hyper," she said. "How much of that have you had this morning? That's my grandma's recipe and her secret ingredient is sugar."

Dean shrugged. "It's really good. Besides, there's fruit in it. Fruit's a breakfast food."

Sam rolled his eyes. He had sat up enough to serve himself. "Fruit is just another kind of sugar."

"Please don't start," Jess said, seeing where the conversation was headed. "It's too early to keep up with your banter."

Dean snickered as Sam shrugged and started eating his eggs. Once Jess had woken up enough to really process what was going on she asked, "So are you all clear for the not a big deal head injury?"

Dean snorted. "I dunno. Did you ever remember what the square root of 299 is?"

"Fuck off, Dean," Sam was actually whining. Jess had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. She was still pissed at him, after all. "First of all, why were you asking me math questions at four in the morning? And second of all, the square root of 299 is some god awful decimal between 17 and 18. Why on earth would that be a general knowledge question?"

Dean shrugged. "You seemed bored with who's the president. Thought I'd mix it up. And you kinda just proved my point."

"You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious. And yes, Jess. He's in the clear for the concussion. He was probably fine when we got home and he was coherent, but it never hurts to be careful with a head injury."

Jess nodded at him and took another sip of her coffee. "Good," she said. Then she turned to Sam. She gave him a long, hard stare. He started squirming the longer she glared at him. Finally, she said, "If you ever do something so stupid and foolhardy again, I'm going to beat you senseless. I was worried to death while you were off being all cryptic and getting injured! I had to call your brother to come rescue you because instead of explaining what was going on you went off halfcocked, forget the consequences. I'm pissed at you Sam Winchester. And I want answers. Now."

Sam opened his mouth to answer her, eyes wide in surprise when his phone went off. He pulled it out, glanced at the name, then went pale. He looked at Dean. "Tell me you didn't."

Dean just shrugged obviously as lost as Jess. Sam answered the phone.

"Hey, Bobby."

Jess could hear the rough tone from where she sat. The yelling was almost clear enough for her to make out the words. Whoever was on the line was angry. Good. Sam deserved to be in trouble.

Sam cast a sheepish look at his lap as he said, "I'm fine. I promise. Couple of stitches."

Sam winced as the yelling continued. "Bobby, please. There wasn't anyone else. Dean came and helped out." When he paused this time, the voice on the other end of the line had quieted enough that Jess barely heard the mumble of their next question. "The kids are safe. Don't worry about sending anyone else, it's finished... okay, Bobby. I promise. Talk soon."

Sam hung up and glared at Dean, but Jess wasn't letting him slip out of this conversation. She had decided last night she could live with knowing Sam wasn't perfect. She could live with knowing there were some things he'd likely never tell her, but she wasn't okay with knowing his whole life before they met was a secret.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Winchester. You are going to tell me what happened or I'll walk out that door."

Sam looked back at her, stricken. "Jess, please. I can't."

"You can. After the weekend you put me through, you owe me some answers."

Sam looked to Dean, who just shrugged. "This is between you lovebirds. For what it's worth, she's right. You're obviously serious about this. You should tell her."

"But Dean!"

Dean held his hands up. "I'm going for a walk. I left Baby in a no park zone last night and the last thing I need is for her to get towed." He rose, pulling his keys from his pocket.

Sam frowned. "You're not..."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll be back in like half an hour." With that he let himself out, leaving Sam and Jess alone together.

"Well?" Jess said.

Sam sighed. He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a long time. She had just about decided he wasn't going to talk to her, when he said, "I have never told another person the whole story."

She just nodded. She could have guessed that much.

Sam slumped back in his chair, fingers absently playing with the hem of his shirt. "My mom died when I was a baby. You know that. But she wasn't just a victim of a house fire. She was murdered."

Jess felt her eyes widen in surprise. She had known it must have been something along those lines, but to have it confirmed was something different altogether. She reached out and laid a hand over his. She may have wanted answers, but she knew this must be hard for him.

Sam took a deep breath before continuing. "My dad, he saw the whole thing. He got me out of the nursery when the fire started and handed me to Dean to get the both of us out of the house, then he went back to try and save her.

"Dad was obsessed with finding the thing that killed our mom. He's spent every spare moment since that day searching. He raised me and Dean to help him. We never stayed in one place for very long, always moving around. There was physical training, weapons drills at four am, late nights of research, and little else.

"Dean took to that life as easy as breathing. I used to want to be just like him, but I never could quite live up to him. Where Dean was a natural with a shot gun, I spent hour after hour practicing. Where Dean had the raw strength and power, I was quick, but pretty weak. Where Dean could follow orders, I asked too many questions. I could research better than a college grad by the time I was ten, but it wasn't good enough. I wasn't good at the physical part of the job and I didn't want to be. We took hunt after hunt and it was always more. More training, more drills, more practice. Where most kids skive off homework to play video games, I tried to beg my way out of training to do my homework. Dad just didn't understand that I wanted more than that."

Sam glanced up at her, meeting her eye for the first time since he started speaking. "The thing is, I want to be as invested as Dean and Dad. I want to believe that what they're chasing - what we were chasing - was worth it, but the truth is I never knew her. For them, it was personal, revenge. For me, I couldn't help but wonder how Dad could justify exposing us to the horrors that he did when I can't believe Mom would have wanted that for us."

"Why didn't he go to the police, tell them what he saw?"

Sam laughed, but it was dark and humorless. "Here's the part where you'll think I'm making things up."

"Why?"

Sam turned to her with those big, sad eyes so earnest and pleading. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, Sam."

"No," he said, leaning forward to grab her hand. "I mean really trust me. Do you think I would lie or make something up just to get you to let it go?"

She stared at him, searching his face. She knew without a doubt that whatever he said next would be the truth. "I trust you."

"The man who broke into our house and killed my mother, he had yellow eyes. He pinned her to the ceiling over my crib and cut her stomach then set the fire that burned our house down. Whatever he was, he wasn't human."

Jess frowned. "What do you mean, wasn't human?"

"We never got a definitive answer. Dad is still looking. Best we can figure, he's some kind of demon."

"Sam," she said. She knew he was superstitious. She knew he believed all sorts of things that just didn't make sense in a rational world. Before now, she had thought it was charming or annoying by turns. Never before had she worried that it had crossed a line past rationality into madness.

Sam shook his head. "This is what I didn't want to tell you. I know you think it's some weird, backwoods superstition or some hokey pagan nonsense, but it's not. I didn't want you to find out about this stuff because once you know, you can't ever go back. But Dean is right. You deserve the truth. Monsters are real. Ghosts, demons, ghouls, witches. They all exist.

"My father made it his mission to hunt down the thing that killed my mom and take out anything else that preys on innocent people in the meantime. He became a hunter. That's what they call it. Hunting. He spent most of my childhood teaching me how to fight monsters."

"Sam," she said again, cautiously. She knew her reaction could make or break this moment, but she was starting to wonder if maybe Sam needed more help that she could offer. "It's not that I don't believe you. I believe that you believe it, but that's a lot to swallow."

"I know."

"Can you prove any of it?"

Sam shrugged, pulling away from her. "There are a handful of spells I suppose. I can show you Dad's journal. Or Dean's arsenal."

She took in a deep breath. This was going to take some time to process. Either way, it didn't change the fact that she needed to know the rest of what happened that weekend. "Okay," she said at last. "Okay. Let's say all that is true, this weekend you were...hunting?...what exactly?"

"A witch."

Jess made a noise in the back of her throat. It just escaped her. A witch! Was she actually supposed to believe that? "Explain."

"Witches use magic to their own ends. There are some that are good, but for the most part the power they use corrupts. The ones we hunt are the ones that are out there hurting people. This one was whipping up youth potions using children and runaway teens. She was nearly a hundred and fifty years old. She preyed on the ones who felt like they had nowhere left to go. The bus of kids was a big change in her MO. I think she'd had a harder and harder time luring in runaways. She was desperate. I found her trail because the missing person report mentioned that there had been a long history of kids going missing. I tried to hand it off. I got out of that life for a reason, but there was no one close enough to get there in time. She would have killed those kids tonight when moon was new."

Jess was waiting for him to grin. To crack up and tell her he was just messing around. But when she met his eye she realized he was deadly serious. A different kind of dread was starting to settle in her bones.

"Sam, did you kill someone?"

"I killed a witch."

She gasped, choking on something that felt suspiciously like a sob. Her gentle, sweet, kind Sam had murdered someone in cold blood. He was obviously sick. He had pieced together some fantasy about some poor woman then snuck in and killed her to fulfill his twisted thinking.

For the first time, she was beginning to feel afraid of Sam. He had always been so kind with her. She wouldn't have thought it possible, but he had just said he'd killed.

Sam sighed. "What if I could show you?"

She froze at that, suddenly afraid. Was he going to hurt her now that she knew? Was he going to try to hurt someone else to prove that he wasn't lying? "What?"

"Not a witch," he shuddered. "But maybe a ghost. If I could prove to you that I'm not making this up, that I'm not crazy or hallucinating or something, would you want that? It's not something you can ever unsee."

"I..." Jess didn't know what to say. This was Sam. He was big and powerful, sure, but he wasn't a killer. He never had been. She wanted desperately to believe him, but she was a little afraid of what he might do, even to her. Still, she had to believe that she knew his heart, and everything in her said Sam wasn't a killer.

"Okay," she said, surprising even herself. "Show me."

Sam looked sad, but nodded. "Okay."

He pulled out his phone. A moment later he was talking to his brother. Apparently, she was going ghost hunting tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sam," Jess said. She was watching as he shoved a spare set of clothes into his bag. The old thing looked stained and worn. He had dumped everything from his weekend trip out onto the foot of the bed and was repacking odds and ends that he'd decided they might need. Jess was hesitant to bring the topic up, but she felt like it was her job to be the responsible one here. "I know you want to be there, but are you sure that's a good idea? You just had twenty three stitches in your side and a concussion. Maybe you should sit this one out."

Sam shrugged. "It'll be fine," he said. He picked up the neat stack of clothes she'd pulled from her closet earlier. Sam had been adamant that she might want something clean when they were done. She was trying her hardest to defer to him in this until she got proof one way or another. Sam gave her a quick smile as he zipped the bag up. "Dean will do the digging. I'll just be on shotgun duty. I've done harder in worse shape."

That was far from a comforting thought. Somehow, every time one of the brothers tried to be reassuring, they let a little more slip about their past. Far from doing anything to calm her nerves, it usually just made her that much more anxious. At this point she was beginning to wonder how either of them had survived into adulthood.

Behind her in the doorway, Dean grunted. "He's right. I could do this one in my sleep solo. Which is the only reason you're coming along."

Jess scowled at him. They had been nothing but adamant that she was only going because this was the easiest thing they had found. If the situation hadn't been quite so serious, she'd have let both of them have it for their elitist crap.

"I think you just don't want a girl to show you up."

Dean burst into laughter. It caught her by surprise. It was the kind of laugh that was infectious. She glared at him. "Sweetheart, I don't care what you've got between your legs. I care that you're greener than new grass."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Sam and I – we've trained our whole lives for this job. You've had what, a Y class in karate? You got no clue how to handle yourself out there. So when I tell you this is the only thing you're going on, I mean it."

"Dean," Sam barked. "Lay off. She's not becoming a hunter so you can quit harassing her about it."

Dean shrugged. "I'm good," he said with a grin. "If you're finished packing, let's go. I want to roll out in five."

Sam shouldered the bag and slung an arm around Jess. Together they headed downstairs and out towards where the car was parked on the street. The warm sun on her face felt nice after the days of worry and waiting. Sam's comforting arm around her shoulders did a lot to settle her nerves and make things feel normal, even if she was about to try and see a ghost.

As a group they piled back into the Impala. Jess has expected Sam to climb into the back seat next to her, but he'd slid into the passenger seat without a thought. The grin on his face couldn't have been brighter. She knew she wouldn't begrudge him it for anything. For the first time in the entire time she'd know him, he was completely relaxed. Everything in him melted into the leather seat as he griped about Dean's taste in music.

Jess couldn't help the small smile that grew from watching him. She hadn't gotten much more out of him after his revelation about growing up as a monster hunter, but even she could see that for Sam this was home. This was the same ease she had when she strolled into her parent's house and curled up in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by all the things that reminded her of being a kid.

In the light of day, she realized the inside of the car looked well worn – not dilapidated or uncared for, but lived in and well used. Every single bit of the inside had been lovingly taken care of. She glanced over and spied a green army man wedged into the tray on the door. She reached over intending to pull it out and examine it, but found it stuck.

Sam's voice was full of laughter when he said, "That's been there since we were kids. Dean melted the base of it on accident. I thought Dad was going to tan our hides when he found it."

"I didn't do any such thing," Dean said.

Sam snorted. "We had been learning how to start fires. He took a pair of Dad's old reading glasses and was playing with them, only he melted the base accidentally."

"Watch it, Sammy," Dean warned. "You don't keep your mouth shut, I might accidentally tell your girl about your streaker phase."

"Dean!" Sam sounded every bit the annoyed baby brother. "I was like two!"

"You started it."

"I was just explaining."

"No, you were tattling."

"I-"

"Boys!" Jess has to cut in. She would never be able to fathom how their father had ever put up with them, especially if they travelled by car as much as they claimed. She would have dumped them on the side of the road and told them to walk, and she'd only dealt with the two of them together for a few hours.

The two grown men shut their mouths and traded a look. Sam started to laugh. "Sorry."

She couldn't find it in herself to be mad, not when Sam never laughed that freely or smiled that broadly at home. The levity only lasted a hundred miles before both of them started to grow somber. Sam pulled his laptop out of his school bag and opened it up, pulling up something that looked like an obituary from where she was sitting.

"Alright," Dean said. "We got about twenty minutes before we hit town. What's the deal with this one?"

"Gary Sullivan," Sam said, matter-of-factly. "Died three years ago through suspicious circumstances that were eventually ruled accidental. Fell off a cliff in a favored hiking spot and drowned in the reservoir below. Additional injuries suggested he'd been pushed, but that was discounted. Coroner claimed he could have just as easily hit the rocks on the way down. No way to conclusively prove foul play and no outstanding suspects with both motive and means."

"So what's he been up to?"

"Locals have claimed to have seen odd things happening around the reservoir. Lights, cold spots, localized wind. One solo hiker claims he was pushed. He caught himself on the lip before he could go over completely, but when he climbed back up there wasn't any trace of anyone else. Two others have been injured. The official line so far has been that they were because the rock is starting to give way up there."

"Why now?"

"Dunno. I haven't found any suspicious disturbances in the area. His wife is remarrying, but she hasn't reported any strange or violent activity. His former partner is taking over the law firm officially next month, but again nothing that would seem supernatural going on there."

"I don't like when we don't have a motive," Dean said. "Means it's a wild card."

Sam shrugged. "He's buried in Lakeside Memorial Cemetery. It's a good fifteen miles away from the lookout. Do you want to make the hike or go straight to the grave?"

"Think we should talk to the wife or the partner?"

"I doubt it. If he was haunting them, surely there'd have been some activity by now. It sounds like he's been active for at least a few months. Besides, without some sort of motive, we have no idea how to spin it. Feds would seem suspicious. It wasn't a national park. He had no extended family, which was widely known. And at over 3 years, insurance wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole."

Jess frowned. She had been trying to absorb everything they were talking about, but that last comment concerned her. "Wait a minute," she said, leaning forward in her seat. "Are you saying you regularly impersonate federal agents? Isn't that a felony?"

Dean grinned over at Sam. "She's cute."

Sam just scowled at him. He turned to face her over the back of the seat. "Because monsters operate off the radar, so do hunters. There's not a lot that's legal about that line of work. If I told you all the ways we broke the law, we'd be here all day. But to be fair, I never actually impersonated anyone. I was still too young when I left. I was always the tag along intern. It meant I got left alone to do the grunt work a lot."

"You do realize you're about to partake in grave desecration, right? For a noble cause," Dean rushed to assure her. "But I've got more than one charge of that on my record."

Jess shook her head. This was sounding less and less like a good idea by the minute. It was all fine and good to see a ghost. It was decidedly less fine to go to jail for committing a felony.

"Let's take the hike," Dean said after a beat. "We're going to have some time before we can get to work. Might as well poke around and see if we can tell what's gotten him so spooked."

Sam nodded. "Take exit 93 and make a left. It's a straight shot through town to the nature center. Should be signs for it. We're looking for Canyon Road."

They didn't talk anymore. Jess tried to stay quiet out of respect. It felt like mental preparation for a big test. She didn't know if it was because they had her along, or because it had been so long for Sam. For all she knew it was always like this for them. When they parked in the small gravel lot beside the trailhead, the brothers climbed out in tandem and wordlessly went to the back of the car. Jess followed them, peaking over Dean's broad shoulders to see that they had propped open a compartment that housed a wide variety of weaponry. She saw guns, knives, even a can of spray paint rolling around in addition to a huge arsenal of things she didn't remotely recognize.

Sam frowned down into the trunk. He picked up a pistol, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. Then he pulled out a short pipe. It was no longer than her forearm. He tested the heft of it, giving it a good swing through the air. Apparently satisfied, he turned to her and held it out. "For emergencies only," he said. "It's iron. Iron and salt repel spirits, but I don't want you to go attacking. If for some reason it gets past me and Dean, then you swing hard. Aim for the head or the torso."

Jess nodded. She had already gotten the lecture that she was to stay back and watch, not get involved. Between the two brothers there were two shotguns, a pistol, and a tire iron, and that's just what she'd seen them pull from their makeshift armory. They were equipped to fight off an angry bear, in her unprofessional opinion. Still, the weight of the pipe was reassuring in her hand. Their warnings had wormed into her head. It was good to be prepared for whatever might be at the top of the trail. At least if it turned out Sam was crazy, she was armed now.

Dean handed them each a bottle of water and slammed the trunk closed. "Should be a short hike. Let's go poke around."

It was a short hike. It took them less than ten minutes to get to the top. Jess had to admit, the view was stunning. They were standing well back from the edge of a limestone bluff that dropped off and down into a clear blue reservoir. The surrounding area was lush and green. It was the kind of place Sam might have taken her to on a date. She wished she could pretend they had just come out here to be alone.

Sam and Dean split up, searching the area for anything that looked out of place. They never explained what exactly that might be, so Jess let them work. She heard them calling to one another when they didn't find anything. She was still mostly convinced there wasn't anything to find. Even if there had been a murder here, it had been years ago now. It's not like there was going to be fresh blood splashed around on the rocks.

Jess pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and wandered a little closer to the drop off, looking at the steep cliff. She felt a shiver run down her spine. At first she thought it was just the grisly thought of what had happened there, but then an icy hand grasped her arm. She tried to spin on her heel, but the grip was like steel and she felt herself being pushed towards the edge.

"Sam!"

Sam looked up and locked eyes with her. In seconds he was leaping towards her, grabbing her just in time to keep her from plummeting into the reservoir below. Her feet dangled under her, scrambling for purchase against the rocks. Above her, she heard a shot go off and flinched, but Sam held her tight. With a grin he hauled her up.

Dean was standing a few feet back, feet planted shoulder width apart. He had his gun drawn and was looking wildly around. "Get back!" He barked.

Sam grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the edge.

"Any theories, genius?" Dean's tone had turned annoyed. Jess frowned at the change in his demeanor.

"How was I supposed to know," Sam snapped back.

"It's your research project."

"All the signs pointed to Gary!"

Jess knew she had missed something. Sam and Dean had backed up, wedging her between them as they sniped at each other. Jess was on high alert, trying to see whatever had tried to push her over.

"Well unless he's a very convincing cross dresser, it wasn't him!"

"What's wrong," Jess demanded. She could still feel the quiver in her legs from the adrenaline rush and the boys' antics weren't helping her nerves.

She didn't have to wait long for an answer. Something stirred the air to her right and a figure appeared in front of them. A young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Jess stood barely three feet away. She was dressed in torn, bloody clothes. Her entire form was deathly white and semi-transparent.

Jess had to bite back the ludicrous impulse to laugh. Dean fired another round at her and she disappeared, only to reappear next to Sam. Jess couldn't do anything but stare as the girl started to reach for his arm.

Sam snatched the iron bar from where it had fallen in her mad scramble earlier and swung it straight through the girl's midsection, banishing her again.

"We've got to get down from here," Sam yelped.

Dean was forced to shoot again when she appeared screaming next to him. "No shit. Any other obvious statements you'd like to add?"

Sam didn't rise to the bait this time. He grabbed her hand without turning around. He squeezed it and said, "Get ready to run. Don't stop until we're back at the car."

They were waiting for something, although what Jess couldn't tell. When the ghost popped up again, this time reaching for Jess, Sam spun them, took another swipe, then pushed her back towards the path. "Now!"

She took off running. She could hear Sam's steady pace behind her and Dean's swears following them up. She started wheezing a few minutes in, then slowed. Sam, now beside her, didn't even look winded as he kept pace. "Don't stop!"

She grimaced, but pushed herself on. She nearly cried in relief when the sleek side of the Impala came into view. This time Sam dove into the back seat with her as Dean started pulling out of the lot, door still ajar.

"What the hell, dude?"

"I don't know! The signs didn't start until Gary's death," Sam said as he pulled her tight to him. "He must have been the first victim. The report did seem to think he'd been pushed."

Dean took a steadying breath and slowed the car as he pulled onto the main road. "Right. So now what?"

Sam glanced at his watch. Jess studied him surreptitiously. He was looking a little rumpled from the fight, but otherwise didn't seem bothered. He'd barely even broken a sweat.

"Library's closed," he said. "Let's stop by the diner. I can probably get enough signal in there to do some digging. At least now we know why there didn't seem to be a motive."

"Whoopdy freaking doo."

"Hey, don't tell me you're not ready for dinner. I know you better than that."

"Yeah well, nearly getting thrown off a cliff works up an appetite."

"She didn't even touch you."

"So," Dean asked. "And you're letting me check those stitches. Don't think I didn't see that dirt dive earlier."

Sam winced, but he shook his head. "It's fine. I didn't bust a stitch."

"Then you won't mind letting me see."

Sam sank back into the seat. "Fine, whatever."

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome."

Meanwhile, Jess has been focusing on their banter as a way to distract herself. She was not entirely sure what she just saw, but she had been a handbreadth away from going into the reservoir herself. Suddenly Sam's claims that supernatural monsters existed were a lot easier to believe.

Their little sniping match apparently over, Sam turned his attention to her. He pulled her tight against his side, letting her lay her head on his shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. "How are you doing? Are you hurt at all?"

She shook her head. True she had been seconds away from disaster, but Sam has been there and kept her safe.

"I know the first time is always a little...terrifying, but it's okay. It was just a ghost."

Jess snorted into his shirt, perhaps a bit hysterically. "Just a ghost? That's not comforting."

Sam rubbed her arm. "I know, but Dean and I know what we're doing. You're safe now and when all this is over, we'll have dealt with her and no one else will get hurt."

"Just like riding a bike, eh Sammy?"

Sam just rolled his eyes. "It's Sam. How many times?"

"What exactly is a ghost?"

Sam shrugged. "Restless spirit, unfinished business. Not all that different from your normal horror movie. Most of them died violent or particularly horrible deaths. They're still tethered here by something. That's why we salt and burn the remains."

She shuddered. "No wonder you hate Halloween."

In the front seat, Dean snorted. "Nope! He's just weird. Sam's always hated it. Even when we were kids. I've never known why."

"Not now, Dean." He looked down at her. "Do you want to head home? You don't have to ride along for the rest of this. Dean and I can finish it up and meet you back at campus."

She shook her head and sat up. "No, I want to see this through."

They pulled into the Night'n'Day diner a few minutes later. The pink neon from the sign glowed almost garishly, casting the entire parking lot in a rosy glow. The boys ushered her in and settled them at a back booth away from the other patrons. Jess has always noticed Sam did that, always sat at the back of a restaurant and never put his back to the room. It was part of why she had always assumed he'd been abused as a child. Seeing their life, it made sense now. It was where she wanted to be, too. So she didn't object to their booth selection or the fact that Sam sat beside her so that she was wedge against the wall on the short bench seat. She didn't comment as she saw Dean sweep the area or his subtle check of their waitress disguised as lingering eyes when the woman walked up to their table a mere thirty seconds after they'd sat down.

The waitress was a short, blonde woman in her late thirties with a name badge that read Sally pinned a little lower than strictly necessary. "Welcome to the diner," she said with a toothy grin. "What can I get for you?"

Dean turned his hundred watt smile on her. Without so much as glancing at the menu he said, "I'll take a coke and a cheese burger, extra onions."

Sam, who had been buried in his laptop, pulled his eyes away long enough to give the girl a short smile and order a house salad and whatever soup she would recommend.

Jess felt like the odd man out when the waitress turned to her. Sam and Dean had spit out orders like they'd been coming in for years. She hadn't even had a chance to glance over a menu, but she could feel the weight of the waitress's expectant gaze. Her cheeks warmed as she stuttered out a request for a soda and fries, figuring that would be a safe bet. She shrugged at Dean's questioning look.

The waitress came and went while they sat in silence. Sam was engrossed in his research. He was clacking away at his keyboard. What little she could see from her spot beside him meant little to her. He was so involved, he barely noticed the food that was dropped next to his hand. Dean nudged her toe with his boot, then winked at her. His deft fingers rolled his discarded straw wrapper into a ball and flicked it to smack Sam square in the forehead.

Sam frowned. "I'm busy," was all he said.

"Food, Sam. Eat it."

Sam took a distracted bite of his salad then set his fork back down, engrossed in what appeared to be coroner's reports. Jess was steadfastly trying not to look at the gory pictures as she nibbled at her fries.

"Sam," Dean said. There was just a hint of warning in his tone. Sam huffed, then picked up the salad and set it between his arms in front of his keyboard, proceeding to shove it in his mouth between scrolling.

Dean made an exasperated face then grinned when he saw she was watching him. "Does he do this to you too?"

Jess shrugged, surprised at the question. "I don't allow books at the dinner table."

Dean laughed. "Ooh, I like you. You know, there was this one time when Sam thought it was a good idea to walk and read at the –" Dean jumped. "Gah! When did you put on your steel toes? Damn that hurt."

Sam smirked, but didn't respond.

"Anyway," Dean said with a grin. "We were staying on this little ranch just outside the city. Remember, this is Texas, so there were cows and horses everywhere. Sam had walked into town to get supplies. It was like ninety degrees out and I'd felt sorry for the shrimp when I found out Dad had sent him, so I decided I'd meet him halfway and pick him up. He had some big book report due that week or something, and he decided that the walk was a good time to catch up. About the time I spotted him, I hear some girl calling his name. Kid looks up, still walking, and plants his foot right into a giant pile of horse shit. Only 'cause he was looking around, he slips and goes down. He had it smeared all the way up his back. Needless to say I didn't let him in my car after that. Dad threatened to hose him off in the yard."

She smiled at him, aware he was being charming on purpose. Still, if he wanted to trade embarrassing Sam stories, she had a handful. "Yeah well," she said. "Did he tell you about the time he accidentally turned himself pink?"

Sam frowned, typing a little more forcefully, but he still didn't bother to look up from his research. He just pouted. "Jess? Really? You're supposed to be the mature one."

She waved him off. "Where's the fun in that," she asked, turning back to Dean. "He was feeling a little sore after he went too hard at the gym one day so he decided he was going to take a bath. Only he found these bath fizzer things that my Aunt Sally had given me. They were about a million years old because they stained the tub the last time I used one. I came home and the house reeked like lilies. When I found him, he'd fallen asleep in the tub. Everything from his neck down was a brilliant, neon pink. It took a week to wear off."

Across from her, Dean was gasping for air. "I hope you got pictures!"

"Of course I did."

Sam just groaned. "I hate you both."

Jess patted his shoulder, but it didn't stop her from laughing at him. The last of the terror from their earlier excursion was wearing off as she remembered how Sam had tried to pass the whole thing off as a vicious sunburn. That had fooled exactly no one.

The atmosphere turned more solemn when Sam finally snapped up and said, "I think I found something. The girl's name is Rebecca Peterson. She was an intern at the law firm Gary ran. She went missing four years ago around Christmas. No sign of break in or struggle at her apartment. It was assumed she ran off."

"Well this just keeps getting better and better. So you think he killed her?"

Sam shrugged. "Probably. Looks like she had brought allegations against Gary for harassment. There's no record of it going any farther than an HR report at work though."

"So, where do we start," Jess asked.

Sam stared at the page that was up, not really reading it. "I don't know. She could be anywhere. Most likely is in the lake."

"Do you have any good news?" Dean's scowl had returned.

"At least she didn't kill us?"

"Wait," Jess said with a frown. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"

"Remember we said the easiest way to get rid of a ghost is through a salt and burn," Sam explained. "With no idea where she's buried, we've got no leads. If Gary really did kill her, he probably took that secret to his own grave. At worst, and most likely, he dumped the body in the reservoir to hide the evidence. It would make sense if she's been trying to push others in. That means we don't have access to the remains."

"Then what do we do?"

Dean scowled. "First we try talking to her, see if she won't go on her own or at least show us where she's buried. Tonight, that's all we can do. If that doesn't work, we start investigating locally. We'll look into any Jane Does that came up in the last four years and start interviewing family and coworkers."

"How would they have not identified the body?"

"Pretty easy. If you're not in the system and had no reason to be in the area, there wouldn't be much to make an ID on. Or the remains could have been too compromised. Lots of reasons."

Jess couldn't help the frown that tightened her expression. They both sounded like experienced cops or something. She had a hard time fathoming how they had gotten so used to the death and horror of the situation that they could speak so baldly about it. It made her want to hunt down their father and give him a piece of her mind. They had been doing this since they were children for goodness sake.

Sam closed his laptop and set it aside. He turned his attention to the bowl of soup that had been growing steadily colder by his elbow. He spooned up a bite and grimaced. Dean made a questioning noise in his throat.

"Clam chowder," was all Sam said. Jess winced. Sam hated clams; he still ate his soup.


	5. Chapter 5

They finished the rest of their meal in silence. When Sam had scraped up the last of his soup, Dean hauled him away to check his stitches in the bathroom. Jess finished sipping her soda and people watched while she waited on them. There was a little old man sitting at the counter who had been nursing along a cup of coffee for a good twenty minutes and a woman with two boys sitting in a booth near the door. It was late. The kids were obviously tired and grumpy. They kept throwing things and arguing with their mother. They must have been on their way to somewhere. Jess wondered where that was.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sam leaning against the table and smiling down at her. "Come on," he said. "Dean's flirting, so I told him he could pay the check. Let's head out to the car. He could be a minute."

Jess stood. She let Sam put his arm around her and guide her back out into the open parking lot. From outside, the diner seemed even more abandoned. Together, Sam and Jess leaned up against the side of the car. Sam tipped his head back to look up at the sky. Jess copied him, surprised when she could pick out a handful of constellations. As far into the city as they lived, they rarely saw more than a few brighter stars in the sky. Out here, even under the neon sign, the sky was full of them.

Sam shifted beside her. He didn't turn to look at her, still studying the night sky, but his tone was heavy when he said, "Jess, I know I said you could come on this one, but it's turned out a bit more complicated than we expected. Spirits like this don't go easily. There's every chance we could just piss her off. I think it might be better if you stay in the car."

Jess pushed away from the Impala, spinning to face Sam. "Like hell," she said. Jess was many things, but a coward wasn't one of them. "I'm going and that's that."

"Jess," he said. His eyes were wide and pleading when he finally looked over at her. "I mean it. This one is too dangerous. You saw the ghost. That was the point. Let us handle this one."

"Why," she snapped. "Because I'm not some dyed in the wool hunter raised in the life from birth? I can take care of myself and I'm not letting you go trotting off towards trouble alone."

"No, because this case just got a lot more dangerous in a way I can't really explain and I promised I'd keep you safe. Besides, I won't be alone. Dean will be there."

"If it was Brady or Luis you wouldn't have a problem with it."

Sam snorted. "Are you kidding me? Brady would pee himself and run screaming the first time he saw a ghost and Luis would faint the first time someone pulled out a gun. I wouldn't trust them within a hundred miles of this stuff. They would only get themselves hurt. It's nothing to do with you."

"I'm coming," she said. She made her tone as firm and final as she could.

"But-"

"Save it." She really wasn't in the mood for this argument. "I'm going. You really can't stop me. Quit acting like you're responsible for me; I can make my own decisions."

Sam sighed, but settled back against the car, returning his attention to the stars. Jess crossed her arms over her chest. She just couldn't understand what Sam was so against her seeing. "What?"

Sam just shook his head. That just fed the fire growing in her. "Sam," she said, low and menacing. "What."

Sam gave her a strange look, somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "Nothing."

"What part of that statement do you disagree with?" She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. He had better tread carefully. She was about done with both their bullshit.

Sam stood and reached for her. He let his thumbs rub gentle circles against her skin where his hands had curled protectively around her arms. He gave her a sad smile and said, "Regardless what you think, I _am_ responsible for you out there."

Jess opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that, but he barreled ahead, cutting her off. "If you rode along with a cop or a soldier, someone who had a physically dangerous job that they were highly trained for, they would be responsible for making sure you stayed safe while you were with them. It's the same thing here. This may not be as glorious or nice as those jobs, but it's just as dangerous with just as many things that could go wrong. When you are out with us, we are responsible for keeping you safe because you don't know the things we do. You don't know what to expect or how to prepare for these threats or how to know when things have gone sideways. You are trusting us to tell you what you need to know and to know our stuff. It's nice that you are that confident in us, but I need you to really understand. This isn't some anti-feminist crap. It's got nothing to do with what I think you're capable of. It's got everything to do with what you know at this point. So while I love you for how stubborn you are and your dedication, I just want to make sure you get why I'm concerned."

Jess paused. She hadn't thought of it that way. She had ridden out with her father back when he was still an active duty officer, and Sam was right. She had gotten to come in on some of the really small calls. Any time anything bigger happened, she had been relegated to the car. She hadn't questioned it because she understood how a hopped up gang kid with a gun was dangerous and that she was a liability in that situation. She got that in an armed robbery she was only going to be in the way or worse, in the line of fire. It hadn't really occurred to her, probably because these were ghost they were talking about, that she might be taking the same kinds of risks here.

She still didn't like it, but she got where Sam was coming from. "I get it. I do," she said. "I understand that this can be dangerous. And I do trust you to protect me, but I can't learn if you don't trust me enough to teach me."

Sam frowned and looked away from her. "I don't want you to learn this. Once you know about these things, you can never really escape it."

"So ignorance is bliss? That's your defense? Besides, you don't get to make those decisions for me."

"In this case, it's true."

"Sam..." she said, losing her patience.

"No! You don't understand. This was my childhood. Dean did his best to give me a chance to be a kid, but I've lived with this stuff from the time I was old enough to handle a gun. I read the news and I don't see a runaway teen or a freak storm or an animal attack on wayward hikers. I see witches and demons and werewolves. I will probably never not know what the current phase of the moon is or leave the house without laying salt lines. I can never not know about the supernatural. Never. Every monster I've seen or researched or killed has been real, and I have to make my peace with that. The world is so much darker and wilder than most people think. Knowing all that changes you. And I never wanted you to have to deal with any of it."

Jess stared at him, speechless. She knew from the start of this that Sam was keeping so much from her. She'd known that his family situation had been tough to say the least and she'd always assumed they had been part of something illegal. She had no idea that he saw the darkness in the world or how hard he'd been trying to shield her from it.

"Sam," she said softly. "It's okay."

He shook his head. "Nothing about this is okay."

She pulled him into a hug, mindful of his injured side. "The situation is fucked up. I'll give you that, but it's okay. We are here and together. I want to see this, not because I don't believe you, but because it's the only way I'm really going to understand. It's okay to be angry. It's okay to admit that this sucks. Just don't shut me out again."

"It's just…I came to Stanford to get away from all that. I didn't want my life to be a living horror movie or to go out bloody in some ramshackle house somewhere. I wanted a clean start. And now, here we are. I'm banged up from a hunt and trying to solve a salt and burn that until an hour ago, I thought was going to be a cake walk. This life doesn't let people go."

"Then we make it. You're mine. I'm not giving you up."

Sam laid his head on hers. They stood like that for a moment, taking strength from each other. Jess knew that as confusing as this had been for her, it was painful for Sam. There was so much history and hurt built into this whole thing that she didn't know where to start to untangle it.

Dean chose that moment to reappear from inside the diner. He grinned when he saw them. "You two lovebirds ready to do this?"

Sam sighed. "Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit." Dean clapped him on his uninjured shoulder. The three of them climbed into Dean's beast of a car and headed back to the hiking trail they'd left an hour earlier.

When they pulled in, Dean cut the engine and turned over the seat to look at Sam. "So, we got a plan?"

Sam shrugged. "Ring of salt and fast talking? Do we have another option?"

"We could always get a room. Do some more research and see if there have been any Jane Does that fit the description. But I don't know how long we have before she pitches the next poor sucker over. You saw that fall. You don't walk away from that one."

"Then I guess we better go see if Rebecca is feeling talkative. Pro tip," Sam said. "Maybe don't shoot her in the face this time."

Dean scowled and climbed out of the car. Sam snickered that his barb had irritated his brother, but followed him to the back of the car pausing to help Jess get out behind him.

"So what do we do?" Jess asked as she brought up the rear of their little group in an eerie reenactment of their earlier trip.

Sam handed her back the iron pipe. "We lay a salt circle. Ghosts can't cross them. Then you stay inside the circle, no matter what. We're going to see if she's still human enough to reason with. Be ready to run. We may have to make another quick exit."

This time the hike to the top was filled with silence. All of them were caught up in their own thoughts. Jess was feeling particularly nervous. Not only was she returning to the place where she'd nearly been pitched over the side of a cliff, she was willing walking there with someone who had just told her a ring of salt on the ground would protect her from the same thing happening again.

Jess's sense of disbelief had been suspended somewhat. She definitely didn't think what she'd seen earlier could be explained away and she'd known that it had been real, but she was still skeptical that it was a ghost. Sam could have shown her any random girl that fit the general description and she'd have believed it was the same person she'd seen at the top of the trail. Even as she thought that though, she was reminded that Sam had no reason to lie. At this point, she believed whole heartedly that he had been telling the truth, at least as much of it as he knew. If this girl wasn't a ghosts then she was definitely something supernatural.

Jess was roused from her thoughts when Sam bumped her shoulder with a soft, "Hey." He had dropped the bag he'd been carrying on the ground and pulled out a large container of salt. "We're going to set up over at the edge of the clearing."

"Why there," Jess asked as she followed him to the spot he'd pointed to.

"Always a good idea to have an area of safety close enough to reach the action, but far enough away that it doesn't attract unwanted attention from the ghost. It should be far enough back that she'll ignore it until we're ready for her, but close enough for us to reach if something goes wrong." He stopped and straightened from where he had been working to look her in the eye. "Remember what I said. This can be dangerous. No matter what you see, stay in the circle. Dean and I know what we're doing and this one could go either way."

"Got it."

Sam went back to laying out a large circle on the ground, then motioned for her to get in. She stepped over the boundary, careful not to break the line with her shoes. She couldn't help feeling a little ridiculous trusting a ring of table salt to protect her, but she trusted Sam and he said it would work.

Sam went to join Dean closer to the edge. Dean was holding a device that was letting out whistling pitches at intervals. He seemed to be scanning for something. Sam motioned at the device and Dean shrugged, but tucked it away. She could see them whispering about something from her spot but couldn't hear what they were saying. Dean gestured back towards her. Sam shook his head. Dean gave him an unhappy look, but eventually walked out almost to the lip of the cliff. Sam hung back, gun at the ready. Jess guessed Dean was going to be the bait. Regardless, she didn't like how close to the edge he was standing.

The effect was instantaneous. The girl appeared again, nearly on top of Dean with arms outstretched towards him. Dean flung his hands up. "Wait! Rebecca, we know what happened to you."

The girl paused.

"We know about Gary, how he assaulted you. Then when you spoke out, he brought you up here and pushed you over. He probably promised to make it right, didn't he? Lied to get you to come with him."

For the first time that night, Jess heard the girl say something beyond just a wordless scream. "Gary…" Her voice was thin, almost reedy. Her words seemed to echo as though she was speaking from the end of a long tunnel.

"Was a great big bag of dicks," Dean supplied. "He deserved what he got."

"Gary is a murderous, lecherous bastard!" Rebecca advanced on Dean, although she didn't try to push him over. "You don't know what you're talking about. He waited for me. I came out to my car one night and he grabbed me. He told me he was doing me a favor before he took me. He had me for days! Days! Then, when he got tired of me, he brought me out here. He threw me down, there," she said. Her thin arm pointed off to the side at a large oak tree growing near the edge of the bluff. "I fought him. Just when I thought I had the advantage, he shoved me over. I didn't die from the impact. That just hurt enough I couldn't swim. I drowned. The last thing I saw was that bastard's face watching me go under."

"I take it back," Dean said. "Gary deserved more than what he got. Good on you girl."

"Gary deserves every last thing I plan on doing to him."

Sam stepped forward then. "Rebecca, Gary's dead. You killed him. You pushed him over the cliff three years ago."

Rebecca's attention snapped to Sam. "No. I died a few days ago. I haven't found him yet, but when I do I'm going to make him feel what he did to me."

"It's 2014. You've been dead for four years now. Gary is gone. You got your revenge."

"No!" Rebecca was howling now. "He's not! You're lying!"

"I'm not lying. Why would I? Rebecca, you've got to realize these other people you're pushing aren't him. Gary's dead. These people didn't hurt you. You got your revenge, now it's time to move on."

"No! They let it happen. They all let it happen,"

Before Jess could blink, Rebecca was flying at Dean. Sam dove at the same time and managed to keep Dean from going over. Together they shot up and sprinted at Jess, leaping over the salt ring and doubling over.

"That went great," Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He wrinkled his nose, eyeing Rebecca from where she was standing out in the clearing. "What's she doing? Why isn't she coming after us?"

Sam shook his head. "It was a 50/50 shot at best. Maybe she's protecting something. If there's anything tying her down besides her body, it'll probably be up here or wherever she was held."

"Fine. I'm on distraction duty. You start looking. And make it quick." He shoved the same device he'd been using earlier at Sam and gathered his gun back up, then sauntered out of the ring into the clearing where Rebecca had been watching them. Jess got a quick glance at the item. It looked like an old Walkman someone had wired lights into along the top. This was their detection system?

Jess jerked when a shot ring out ahead of her. Rebecca had waited until Dean got within a few feet of her, then attacked. Dean's shot struck home. Rebecca disintegrated.

Sam dashed out, running for the lookout. He had discarded his gun in favor of waving the little Walkman device wildly around the area. Jess cried out when he strayed too close to the tree she had point out and was met with Rebecca's hand around his throat. She pinned him against a nearby rock, holding him against the stone as he struggled against her. Jess snatched the iron rod up and started towards Sam, when Dean came to the rescue and whipped his crowbar through her insubstantial form.

Sam collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. He didn't even take time to catch his breath before he grabbed the shrieking device, and frowned down at the flashing lights in his hand. Still coughing, he pushed it closer to the oak. "Dean," he gasped. "She's guarding the tree!"

He staggered to his feet and stumbled the few steps back to the tree trunk. Sure enough, the moment Sam got close enough to the tree to touch it, Rebecca spun away from Dean fully focused on stopping him. Sam ducked her swooping figure, although he couldn't dodge the tree branch she flung at him. He slammed against the bark and dropped to the dirt.

Sam groaned and forced himself up on shaking arms. He started scrambling around in the debris that had caught against the tree's trunk. Jess couldn't just sit by and watch. It was obvious they needed more hands than they had and so far Rebecca didn't seem to care about her. She cast one fearful glance over at the action, then stepped out of the circle and made her way along the edge of the trees. She skirted around the open area, carefully keeping an eye on Dean and the ghost as she made a wide loop towards the back of the tree. She had no idea what she was going to do when she got there, but she figured two sets of hands were better than one.

Jess sank down out of view of the clearing and hissed, "What am I looking for?"

Sam glanced up at her, panic blossoming on his face. "Jess, get back in the circle."

"Too late. I'm here. She doesn't seem to care about me. Tell me what I'm looking for."

Sam focused back on his search, unearthing rocks and scattering leaves while still running his little detector over everything in front of him. "Anything that might have belonged to her. Something she might be attached to. If it's an object tying her down, we can get rid of her."

Jess began to ask what kind of object when Sam was lifted and flung away from the tree. Jess wanted to check on him, but even she realized that the fastest way to help Sam was to find whatever she was looking for.

"Something that belonged to her..." she was scrabbling through the debris too, even digging under the top layer of dirt. If Rebecca had died here four years ago, whatever they were looking for might well be buried by now.

Jess straightened. This was stupid. Even if the girl had dropped something there, how were they supposed to find it? She looked up, hoping there might be some clue. A dark shape up in the branches caught her eye. It looked like a nest.

"Dean!" She shouted. "How good a shot are you?"

Dean grunted as a branch flew at his head. "Little busy here."

"So am I. How good is your aim?"

"Good."

"Come here."

"Right," he muttered. "Never mind the pissed off spirit, come look at the pretty tree." Dean scowled at her as he trotted up. "What?"

She pointed up into the branches at the nest. "There's nothing obvious on the ground, but if it was small it might have gotten picked up by a bird or something. Can you hit the nest and knock it down?"

Dean spun on his heel and let off another shot at Rebecca before he considered the task. "It's not going to fall cleanly, but I can probably knock it down. Be ready when I do. The show's really going to start if that's what she's guarding."

Jess nodded. She gripped the pipe tight in her hand, ready to swipe if the girl showed up while Dean was aiming. Dean fired up into the tree and cursed. A few twigs splintered off, but the nest stayed lodged in place. He fired again. This time, the nest tipped and fell. Feather down and twigs rained down on them. The nest itself lodged on a low branch. It was hanging sadly upside down, but several small objects had fallen free to the ground.

Jess jumped forward to sort through the handful of shiny bits that had fallen onto the dirt. In the mix, there was a small, golden locket. It looked old. It was the kind of thing that might have been passed down through families as a memento. She snagged the chain and held it up for the brothers to see. "This look right?"

Sam was climbing to his feet again. He squinted through the gloom and nodded. "That's it. She's wearing it. See? Jess, bring it here. Dean, cover us."

Jess jogged to where Sam was digging through his pockets. "Throw it on that rock there."

Jess laid the locket on the bare rock that Sam had waved towards. As soon as she did, she felt a chill hand grab her shoulder. She was flung back, sliding on the hard dirt path. Dean's shotgun rang out and she disappeared again, blinking back into existence almost on top of Sam, who was dumping salt over the locket.

As Sam began to pour lighter fluid over the necklace, a rock rose on his left side. Jess forced herself up and lunged, tackling him to the ground before it could make contact. Next thing she knew Dean was loping past them, tossing his lit lighter onto the rock.

The entire thing went up in flames. They danced across the bare rock where Sam had been careless with the lighter fluid and licked at the golden jewelry. Behind them, she heard a shriek. She turned to find Rebecca being consumed by flames herself. The heat of the inferno blazed warm against Jess's cheek, then was gone.

Jess stayed where she lay, breathing hard and staring at the after image that had burned into her eyes. Beside her, Sam relaxed back onto the ground with a groan.

"Sam, you good?" Dean sounded unreasonably happy for someone who had just been fighting an incorporeal girl.

Sam grunted and scowled at him. "See," he said. "That time I busted a stitch."

"Better a stitch than your head. Good thinking, Jess. You still in one piece?"

Jess registered that he was talking to her, but she couldn't seem to coax her brain into putting together a coherent response. What did one say when some spirit that had tried to murder them all had just gone up in flames. "Jess? You okay over there?"

Jess shook herself, trying to focus on the present. "I think?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, first time is always a little weird. I'm good too, in case anyone was wondering."

"Dean," Sam said, plaintively. He raised an arm from his spot on the ground.

"Do I look like your nursemaid," Dean asked. He stomped over and took Sam's hand, letting Sam pull himself up slowly. Sam stumbled as he gained his feet and Dean was there to steady him.

"Next time I say I want to go on a hunt, remind me of this," Sam said.

Dean smirked, "You mean the time I was awesome and you were too slow to keep from being roughed up by a girl? Sure thing, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he said with no heat behind his words.

Dean looked over at Jess as he was supporting Sam, an unspoken question in the tilt of his head. Jess nodded and climbed to her feet. She was fine, or as fine as she could be.

She brushed the leaves and dirt from the front of her pants, wincing as she realized she'd skinned the whole of her right arm when she skidded across the ground. She was also covered in dirt. "I need a shower."

Dean nodded in approval. "Me too. I call dibs!"

She wrinkled her nose. "If we're going home, it's my shower. I get first go."

"Nah," Dean said, guiding Sam forward as he limped along. "It's a two hour drive to get you two home and we're all beat. There was a little Cowboy Comfort Inn as we came into town. We can stop there for a few hours. We'll head back in the morning."

"No," Sam said pinching Dean in the side. "I showed Jess hunting. She did her first greasy diner research stop. She even got to help in a salt and burn. But no one deserves the roach motel treatment. I've got a little cash set aside. There was a Holiday Inn back towards the highway. At least I know we won't catch the clap from the sheets there."

"Aw, come on Sam. Jess deserves the authentic experience. Save your money."

"No one deserves the authentic experience."

"Um, boys?" Jess was feeling almost light now that the danger was over. Their bickering felt celebratory. So she didn't hesitate to jump in and tease them by asking, "Don't I get a vote?"

Both Dean and Sam turned to look at her with equally wide eyed expressions. It was amazing how they could be arguing over her, and yet have totally forgotten she was there at the same time. Finally Dean shrugged, "Sure, lady's choice."

Jess blinked, surprised at the turn that had taken. "I vote whichever's closest," she said, finally.

Dean crowed. "Western theme it is!"

Sam shook his head, but kept trudging. "You're going to regret that choice," Sam said. "Last cowboy motel was decorated liberally with horse everything. Remember the horse shoes? I thought Dad was going to have a coronary."

"What happened?" Jess asked.

"They were all hung upside down, which is bad luck according to superstition, but apparently also attracts some sort of little trickster sprite. I dunno. We never saw anything, so it could have just been Dad being paranoid."

Jess sighed in relief when the car came back into view. "Well, either way I need a shower. The motel could be spider themed for all I care as long as there's hot water."

"Sam," Dean said with a grin. "I've said it already, but you picked a good one. She's got her priorities straight."

Sam huffed as he fell into the passenger seat. "You only say that because she made you pie. I mean, you are right but that's not actually a basis for judging people and it's going to get you in trouble one of these days."

Dean huffed in disbelief, but his only response was to climb in and start the Impala.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean drove them the five miles back towards the interstate to get to the little motel he'd spied earlier. He pulled off into a tiny, dimly lit parking lot and parked at the furthest spot from the building he could find.

"Really, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Suck it up, Princess. It's only for one night. You'll be back to sleeping under your down comforter tomorrow."

Jess had her own misgivings. It was the sketchiest, kookiest place she had ever seen. The doors to the rooms had been painted to look like saloon doors and there was a neon cowboy lit in the front window of an office next to a vacancy sign. That all would have been fine, but even in the dark Jess could see that the windows were coated in a layer of grime and the paint was curling off the walls. The back corner of the building was completely unlit. Jess wouldn't have even gotten out of the car alone without at least a can of pepper spray and 911 pre-dialed on her phone.

"I'm with Sam on this one," she said. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"I've stayed in a hundred motels like this. It's safe." Dean said easily as he got out. The dim illumination from the motel sign overhead gave him an otherworldly cast, making his eyes look almost amber in the half light

"Dean's right," Sam added. "Most people at these places are more concerned with not getting the cops called. Besides, between the two of us we could handle any trouble. No one will bother us except the sentient mold."

"Again, that's not comforting."

Dean shrugged, obviously done arguing with them. He tossed the keys at Sam then stomped off to the main office. Sam turned in his seat to face her better. "Are you sure this is okay? Dean might moan, but we really can go somewhere else."

Jess shrugged. "It's fine. I'm exhausted. I just want a shower and a nap. As long as there's a bed, I'll just think of it as an adventure."

Sam sighed. "Sure. An adventure."

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"It's nothing," he said with a wave of his hand. "Places like this were half my childhood. When we weren't squatting in abandoned buildings we were staying in seedy motels. I can only remember a handful of times we stayed in an apartment or rented a house. I might get nostalgic for it, but I don't really miss it. The freshman dorms felt almost world class when I first got to school."

Jess reached forward to rub his shoulders. Sam's muscles felt like rocks under her hands. With some gentle work, she managed to ease a little of the tension out of his neck. "Sam, I don't care. I don't care if you ran naked in the streets until you turned eleven. We all came from somewhere. I never had any illusions that you were some spoiled, rich kid."

"Thanks," he said, his head falling back eyes half closed with pleasure.

She laughed. "It's what I'm here for. Kinda funny how it works when you let me share some of the weight, isn't it?"

He smiled up at her. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn," she said with a grin.

The moment was interrupted by Dean's return. He smacked on the window and waved them out. "Come on. I got us a room and I ain't hauling in the bags by myself."

Jess climbed from the back seat and took the med kit she was handed, the same one he had used at their apartment. Sam had collected the duffle with their things in it while Dean was shouldering his own as well as carrying a smaller bag he held by its straps.

The first thing they tended to was injuries. Dean restitched Sam's side and wrapped the ankle that he'd twisted. Sam subjected Dean to a quick inspection, but deemed that he'd survive with just a few bruises. When that was through, Sam pulled Jess over to look at her side and clean the scraped skin on her arm. "Well, you got your first hunting scar," he said as he bandaged up a deep cut just above her elbow.

Jess turned and examined the placement. "I hear boys think scars are sexy."

Sam kissed the bandage lightly. "Definitely."

Before Jess could reply, Dean jumped up and pushed past them. "If you two are going to start making googley eyes, I'm going to go wash my everything."

Before Sam could stop him, Dean had snapped the bathroom door shut and clicked the lock in place. Through the thin door he shouted, "Don't forget the guns, Sam!"

Sam scowled at the closed door. "You're an asshole," he shouted over the sound of the water starting up.

"What's he talking about?"

Sam glowered mutinously at the bags they had just brought in and stomped over to rummage through them. "A stupid rule he made up when we were kids," he said. "Whoever lost first shower had to clean the weapons. He totally made it up because he was too lazy to do it and didn't think I could beat him to the bathroom."

She noticed he had already sat with the smaller bag Dean had carried in and laid out his knife and the two guns he'd carried earlier while he was griping. Despite his grumbling, he began working his way through the weapons, oiling the knife and disassembling the guns to clean them. It was almost mesmerizing to watch. He never hesitated or stumbled. His nimble fingers worked from muscle memory as he muttered darkly under his breath about his brother.

When he'd finished with his own guns, he picked up the shotgun Dean had carried earlier and did the same with it. He was nearly finished by the time Dean came strolling out with a towel around his waist, humming to himself. Sam paused in his task to pull a set of clothes and a couple of toiletries from his duffle and hand them to her. "Go on," he said. "I'm going to finish these up."

She kissed his forehead then locked herself into the bathroom. She let the water wash over her and felt the tension she'd been carrying all evening start to ease. The water pressure was crap and the water lukewarm at best, but scrubbing the dirt off her skin and washing her hair made her feel nearly human again.

She cut off the shower before she was really satisfied, aware Sam was still waiting. She shrugged on her spare clothes then took a moment to study her reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at her looked exhausted. Jess realized she hadn't properly slept since Sam had disappeared on Friday. She'd only had an hour or two in the last twenty four hours. The sleepless night as she wrestled with the enigma of Sam's past felt like a lifetime ago.

She felt so different to how she'd been just that morning when she'd known Sam was keeping secrets but had been sure of the world around her. She'd wanted answers and now she had them, not that she was sure what to do with that knowledge. She knew monsters existed. She'd seen a ghost with her own eyes, even watched it go up in flames.

Sam was right about one thing, it definitely changed how she saw the world. Everything felt just a little rougher around the edges.

She got why Sam had tried to escape all of that. Some other girl might have fallen in love with the romantic notion of dark heroes and rough and tumble men. Another girl might have got caught up in the adrenaline of the hunt. But Jess saw the horror that underpinned this reality. She saw the long thankless nights and the home treated injuries. She saw the constant looking over your shoulder that came along with the job and she suddenly understood Sam in a whole different light.

Sam was so much stronger than any of them had given him credit for. He'd seen the horror in the world, had been exposed to it for his entire life and decided he wanted better for himself. He'd stood up when it became apparent that he was the only who could change his situation and clawed his way free. He'd known he might be giving up everything for just the chance to escape, and he'd done it. Jess didn't know if she'd ever been that brave in her whole life.

There was a knock at the door. Jess jumped, blinking at her reflection. "Jess?" Sam said, quietly. "Are you okay?"

Jess huffed and pulled her wet hair back from her face into a loose ponytail. She gathered up her dirty clothes and opened the door. "I'm good. Shower is all yours." Sam nodded and let her pass. He looked like he might say something, but just slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Dean had found clothes and was lounging on the bed closest to the door flipping aimlessly through TV channels. He grunted at her, but otherwise ignored her.

She grabbed her cellphone out of Sam's bag and settled on the other bed. She flipped it open to see there were a half dozen texts from their friends wondering where they were. It hit her then that they had planned to go out for her friend Bethany's birthday. The idea seemed so incongruous with the evening she'd actually had. She couldn't even begin to think how she could explain why they'd been absent.

Finally, she fired off a text to Carol knowing full well that everyone would know the story within ten minutes. _We had a family thing come up that we had to go to. I'll tell you about it later. Tell Beth we're sorry we missed it!_

She made a mental note to tell Sam what she'd said, just in case. After all, it wasn't exactly a lie. Dean was family and they hadn't been able to go to the celebration. She was beginning to see why Sam had always been vague about his past. This wasn't the kind of thing you just told people.

She set the phone aside and tried to focus on the soap opera Dean had landed on. Her tired mind couldn't quite grasp the storyline. She dozed off to the melodramatic background music, only rousing slightly when Sam snuggled in next to her. She was awake enough to know that he and Dean were talking, but she didn't really care what they were saying. She nestled in close to Sam's warmth and let herself drift back to sleep.

She woke to the late morning sun streaming into the room. She stretched, feeling her muscles pull and protest after her adventure the night before. In the light of day, the room looked even more dilapidated than it had the night before. The carpet was stained at least three shades of brown and had worn through in a half dozen places. The window was missing any sort of drapery while there was a square on the wall that was a completely different color than the surrounding wall paper from where a picture once hung. The wardrobe sagged in the middle, enough so that the door wouldn't properly shut and the TV was missing the front panel that might have once covered the buttons.

The room was quiet. Sam was sitting at the little table working on his laptop. It was a strangely familiar sight, despite the circumstances. Jess watched him for a minute, trying to picture a teenage Sam sitting at a table like that one, working through his math homework while his father and brother prepared to face another monster or talked about ghosts. The thought of Sam doing any sort of homework tickled a thought in her sleepy brain.

With a gasp she sat up. Sam jerked, banging his knee on the table. "Jess?"

"It's Tuesday!"

Sam frowned at her and shook his head. "So?"

"I have lectures today and I missed my lab yesterday. I didn't even email the teacher. I'm so dead."

Sam smiled and turned back to his laptop. "Relax. I emailed all our teachers yesterday. If asked, you were home being graphically ill. Real exorcist style sick."

Jess collapsed back into her pillows. "Oh my gosh. How did I forget?"

"You were a bit preoccupied."

"I'm going to be so behind."

Sam shrugged. "I asked them to send over the homework. It'll be tight, but you can get it done this afternoon."

"And what about you, mister I'm taking twenty two credit hours."

He shrugged and waved at the laptop. "One of the classes is online and I am literally so far ahead, I've scheduled my discussion posts nearly three weeks out. The other three I missed were lectures. I'm about a period ahead in all the reading. It'll just be a matter of turning in the missed homework and making up the test in my civil war class. I missed some serious study time, but I should still be able to pass it."

"Sam," she said. She flopped down against the flat pillows as Dean came back into the room, tucking his cell phone away in his pocket. "I love you, but you're like freakishly smart and I hate you."

"He is like some kind of freaky encyclopedia, isn't he? Wasn't really surprised when they made him valedictorian."

Jess sat back up, looking between the two of them. "Um, I didn't know that. Why didn't I know that, Sam?"

Sam kept typing away at the computer as he said, "Because it's no big deal. It was kind of a weird situation anyway. I had only been at that school for three months when I graduated, so they averaged my grades from all the schools I was in that year. It wasn't really fair to the other kids since I wasn't being scored the same way they were."

"Wait, you went to multiple schools your senior year and still graduated valedictorian?"

Sam hummed noncommittally as he typed something. Finally he frowned and glanced up at Dean. "How many was it? Three?"

"Four, I think. Remember there was that town in Michigan. The one with the werewolf. We had to skip out after a couple of weeks because of the cops. You were pissy because you didn't get your school records."

"Mmm," Sam said, going back to whatever he was working on. "That was the one with the funny looking CPS guy, right?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, the one that looked like he was always pouting."

"Wait," Jess said, still processing the fact that Sam had been in four schools in one year, never mind that comment about CPS. "Back up. You can't just say these things then not fill in the blanks. How many high schools did you go to?"

"Apparently four my senior year."

"Yeah, but like total."

This time, Sam just shrugged. "I lost count somewhere around junior year."

"Let's see," Dean said. "There were three your freshman year. I think it was seven for sophomore, but then again, we had to pull you for that second semester so it took an extra year. There were four your junior year. And four your senior year. So eighteen. Give or take."

"Sam," Jess said. "No offense, but how the fuck did you make it into Stanford with a full ride? I lived in one place my entire life and worked my ass off for the little piece of a scholarship I got."

Sam shrugged. "I worked hard, kept lots of records, and had a backup of everything I ever did. And I got a good SAT score. Plus, I was the main researcher for most of the hunts. Like I told you before, I've always been well versed in how to find the information I need and how to put together a report, whether it's on modernist literature or how to kill Japanese spirit monsters."

"And," Dean interjected. "He's one smart little shit."

"Yeah, I think I got that part," Jess said, staring wide eyed at her boyfriend. "Geeze Sam. Literal genius is a bragging point, you know. You should use it sometimes."

Sam just frowned down at his work. "That wasn't the point at all. I mean, it's nice to have the time to pursue all the things I'm interested in and access to the means to do it, but even if I'd only been able to take the minimum classes, even if I'd been paying for all of it out of pocket, I was actually getting to study what I wanted and it wasn't life or death in the same way hunting had been. I am building the life I want from the ground up. Me. It's what I make it. _That's_ the point."

"Sam, one of these days you're going to realize you're special."

"I don't want to be special. I just want to be me."

"You can't be both?"

Sam didn't really answer. She knew he was avoiding the question. He'd been pretending to be absorbed in his work, but she knew he was using it to deflect from the conversation. She turned to Dean, hoping to have some backup in this, only to realize he'd gone quiet too. He was staring at Sam with an unreadable expression. He seemed to sense her eyes on him. He turned away from her with a shake of his head and left, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Sam sighed and seemed to shrink in on himself.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Sam shook his head and looked at her with those big doe eyes he got when he was sad. "No. I did."

"What do you mean?"

Sam looked at the door, staring after Dean. "At the end of this, regardless of what happened over the last few days, I'm still going back to school and Dean is still going back to hunting. The fight may have happened years ago now, but it's still raw for both of us. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"I don't understand. What exactly did you say?"

"For a long time, it was just me and Dean against the world. We were the only people we could count on. Then I left and tore all that apart. We had been so inseparable that I was sure he would come too. It was selfish and stupid. If there was anyone born to be a hunter it's Dean. But you have to understand. He had been my entire world for so long, I just couldn't imagine him not being there. That night he drove me to the bus station. He didn't say a single word to me, but he drove me there, bought my ticket, and snuck four knives and nearly eight hundred bucks into my bag when I wasn't looking. I meant it when I said I'm building a life for myself, but even at my lowest I never thought that wouldn't include Dean."

"I still don't understand," Jess said. She knew all this. She didn't get what might have set Dean off.

"Dean looks at me and he sees the fact that I left. It hurt him nearly as much as it did me. And now he's probably off somewhere thinking that when I said I was making my own way, I meant I wanted a life without him in it, which I didn't."

Jess frowned down at her lap. She wished she could make this better for Sam. Family was just hard sometimes. She had a little sister. She knew what she would have felt if Mel had been her whole world then just left.

She stood, trying to smooth out her sleep rumpled clothes. "I'll be right back."

Sam frowned over at her. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it. I won't be long."

She slipped on her shoes that she had kicked off by the door and stepped outside. She was afraid that Dean might have gotten in his car and taken a drive – that she wouldn't be able to talk to him. She smiled a little when she saw he was sitting in the driver's seat, but hadn't made a move to leave. She walked over to the car, pulled open the passenger side door, then sat down next to him.

They sat in silence for a moment. Dean seemed content to stare out the front windshield and Jess let him. She knew well enough that he probably wasn't in a talking mood. She would let him make the first move.

"Did Sam send you out here," he asked at long last.

"No."

"Then what are you doing?"

Instead of answering his question directly she said, "Did you know Sam went through three roommates his freshman year because he had night terrors?"

Dean sighed and shrugged. "Sam has always had nightmares. It's par for the course with him."

"Not just bad dreams. He'd wake up crying or shouting. He tackled Darren, his first roommate, to the floor and had a knife pulled on him just because the guy tried to wake him up."

Dean's shoulders slumped and he scowled. "I get it. I do. Hunting was the psychological scar that Sam will never get over. Don't worry. You'll be snug in your little apartment on campus by dinner time tonight."

"It wasn't hunting."

"What do you mean it wasn't hunting?" Dean scowled in confusion, obviously thrown by the turn the conversation had taken and not sure where Jess was going with this. "Was it clowns?"

Jess shook her head, filing that little tidbit away for later. "No, it wasn't clowns."

"Then what?" Dean shifted in his seat so he could actually look at her. He seemed genuinely worried.

"It was leaving you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He dreams you die. Knowing what I do now, I'd bet he's got a whole repertoire of ways that might happen, but in every single one he's ever told me about he watches you die and he can't do anything to save you."

"It's not Sam's job to save me," Dean grunted. He turned back to stare out the windshield again. "It's my job to protect him."

"After what I've seen, I can say with certainty that Sam would die for you, no questions asked."

They lapsed into silence again. Jess thought maybe she should leave it at that, but there was still something she wanted to say. "One more thing then I'll let you get back to brooding. You should know that Sam's never even told me his father's name. He barely speaks about him except to mention that he wasn't around much. I won't lie and say he talked about you much either, but you should have heard the sheer adoration when he did. If Sam and I are as serious as I think we are, there's a good chance you and I might be family one day. I'm glad I got to meet you, even if it was under terrible circumstances."

Dean gave her a hint of a smile. "And I meant it when I said Sam had picked a good one."

Jess smiled at him, then reached out for the door handle. She had climbed to her feet and was turning to close the door behind her when Dean said, "John. Our dad's name is John. That's where Sam got his middle name."

"John," Jess said, trying the name out. She leaned on the open door and looked back into the car. "You know, I'm not sure whether I want to punch him for being an absolute bastard or thank him for giving me Sam."

Dean chuckled. He looked softer somehow. Maybe something she'd said had gotten through to him. "Yeah, Dad has that effect on people."

Dean rolled his shoulders like he was loosening his muscles. He huffed and pulled his keys out of the ignition before he joined her on the outside of the car. Jess watched him walk around the font to head towards the room. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see if we can pry Sam away from his books. I should probably get you two back so you can do your nerd thing."

Jess fell into step beside him. "Good luck with that."

Dean laughed. He paused at their door to wink at her. Before she could blink, he had thrown open the door and barreled in. "Sam!" Jess was pretty sure everyone in the motel could hear him shouting. "I'm bored. Whatcha doing?"

As Jess came in and shut the door, Dean draped himself across Sam's shoulder, putting his face right against Sam's ear. He reached over Sam to poke a button on the laptop keyboard. "What's this button do? What about this one?"

Sam gave Dean a shove, a disgruntled look on his face. "Dude, are you five? That's my junior comp essay you're messing with."

"But Sam, I'm bored."

When Dean went to poke another button, Sam snapped the lid down nearly taking off Dean's finger. "Stop. God, you're such a jerk."

"And you're a whiney bitch. Now come on. Jess and I are hungry. Breakfast time!"

"You know, in the world of unfair things, I think the fact that you can be this chipper without coffee is the worst."

Dean fluffed Sam's hair with his hand, earning a hard smack for his trouble. "Breakfast," Dean sing-songed.

Sam snorted. He rose from his seat and stuffed his laptop into his backpack. Jess was left standing by the door feeling like the odd man out again as the brothers moved in sync around each other, gathering the few odds and ends they'd pulled out the night before and packing everything up. In five minutes, they were ready to leave.

Sam smiled at her and grabbed her wrist as they were walking out the door. He pulled her in close to him, letting his arm drape across her shoulders. "Thanks," was all he said.

She paused just long enough to stand on tip toe and peck him on the cheek. "You're welcome. Now come on, let's go home."


End file.
